Firsts
by ScintillatingTart
Summary: There's always anxiety over the first time something happens. (Harry/Ruth, M for adult themes & language, spoilers for seasons 1-10)
1. Chapter 1

I don't own Spooks, never will claim to. I write for fun (ha!) and emotional gratification (double ha!). Thanks to everyone who followed/reviewed/commented/etc. on Our Little Patch of Heaven, despite it being some kind of random, helter skelter AU: the encouragement has led me to write this, so take it as you will. Rated M for themes and language of an adult nature, and potentially spoilers for all 10 seasons. Harry/Ruth-centric, for obvious reasons like what the fresh hell, man.

Firsts  
by Scintillating Tart  
July 2014 – August 2014

One:  
First Day

She'd found an electric tea kettle, but the coffeepot remained elusive. Ruth Evershed had been awake for over 24 hours at that point, and she was tired of the fleetingly brief buzz of milky tea and wanted a jolt from a mug of steaming hot coffee. She could hardly complain as much as anyone else on the Grid, however – she was the new girl, thrust into the middle of the operation without much fuss and fanfare after they'd all been up for 48 hours or more. Tempers were a little frayed and she'd spent most of her time unruffling feathers between the lines of data.

The adrenaline rush of nervousness was keeping her going, not anything else. Finding a distinct lack of coffee in the alcove, she settled on another tired, worn out cup of tea – but this time, no milk or sugar, and she left the bag in. Anything for that little bit extra caffeine.

When she'd gotten dressed that morning, Ruth had been in a rush to pick something that would fit in and not stand out amongst her betters. She hadn't done laundry, so she was stuck in an uncomfortable, slightly too small pair of knickers that were starting to chafe in delicate areas. She fought the maddening itch by determining that she was a bit of a twat and should just run her washing more often – especially if 24 hour shifts were going to be the norm in her new job.

She poured a second cup of tea – no milk, three sugars – and carried it back over to the analysis area. Without a word, she hovered in Malcolm's line of sight and handed it over when he glanced up. He smiled and said, "Thank you."

Ruth knew that he had been here an intolerably long time – over 72 hours if the shadow of the bags under his eyes were any indication – and his mental responses were beginning to lose their luster. She certainly couldn't claim to be alert herself, but she was concerned for him. "You're welcome – I couldn't find a coffee pot –"

Malcolm looked at her for a long moment, then said, "It went on the blink a few days ago and hasn't been replaced yet. I'm sorry, I should've – but in context, I guess a coffee pot doesn't matter, does it?" He heaved a sigh and rubbed his face. "I'll get started on the paperwork, then, and you can read over my shoulder so you know which forms go with which files for future." His voice was kind, not at all patronizing, but she got the impression he thought she wouldn't last very long.

She had to admit, in a room full of yelling, glamorously beautiful spies, she was small and insignificant, a blip of nothing in a sea of everything. She was hardly outwardly lovely, nor able to project an aura of anything other than concentration or shyness, but she had done her duty and pieced together the information the team had needed. She had done her job, and it wasn't such a bad one, was it? Collating data was a special skill she'd honed since she was a child, sifting through the unimportant details to find the one thing that didn't quite fit. But this scale of it was all new. She was slow and felt a bit thick compared to the others, but it was only her first day – all 23 hours, 14 minutes, and 7 seconds of it.

After watching over Malcolm's shoulder for a few minutes, she knew that he was entirely too exhausted to continue on with her training, and her gaze flitted across the Grid to Mr. Pearce's office. The blinds were partially open and she could just make out that he was sitting behind the desk, on the phone. She'd gotten both his praise and his censure during the operation – his praise for figuring out the location of the bioweapon, and his censure for not being more forceful insisting that she knew where it was located. He was quick to anger, she had learned, and yet quick to offer a good word as well. But she was terrified of confronting the lion in his den.

Everyone else had already left the Grid in a numb state of exhaustion, except for Malcolm, Pearce, and herself. Malcolm had explained quickly that they had to finish collating the day's data and ready it for tomorrow, and submit their initial reports on the incident so Mr. Pearce could give the Home Secretary something concrete before they could leave.

She gently patted Malcolm's shoulder and said, "I'll be right back – I just need to go to the ladies'."

He glanced at her and nodded. "All right – I'll start on this and you can collate when you get back."

She started away from him, heading toward the loo, then doubled back and knocked on the door of Mr. Pearce's office. What motivated her was concern for her colleague's physical and mental well-being, she reminded herself, not a cage match to the death with her new boss.

"Come in," Pearce snapped irritably. She pushed the door open wider and stepped through, letting him see her intrusion and finish his call. "I will call you back, Home Secretary." He hung up the phone and said, "Unctuous git." He took a deep breath and the mask slid back into place, but she'd seen how tired he was. "What can I do for you, Miss Evershed – it is Miss Evershed, isn't it? Don't tell me I've forgotten your name in the heat of the moment."

"No, that's right," Ruth said, "sir. Ruth Evershed."

"I apologize that a more formal training arrangement wasn't in place for today," Pearce said, "but I suppose that on your feet acclimatization will have to do until things calm. Did your codes work adequately?"

"Yes, sir – but that's not why I'm here." She glanced away from him, very nervous now that the adrenaline was wearing off. She felt unsteady, off, in this room – there was an air of stale cologne and expensive whiskey in the air and she was tired. Maybe that's why she thought somewhere in the back of her mind that her disheveled boss looked like he needed a good quick shag and a long shower.

He was silent for a moment, then prompted, "Why are you here, Miss Evershed?"

She licked her lips and picked a little at the edge of her left thumbnail. "I, uh – did you – were you aware that Malcolm has been awake for the last 72 hours, at least?" Her voice was soft and not accusing, though she wanted to reach out and shake the man and make a comment about rest breaks and violations of the law. "He's very weary and it's beginning to show in his paperwork."

Pearce regarded her with an unreadable gaze. "Malcolm knows his limitations, Miss Evershed," he said in a guarded tone that implied that this was not the first time that this situation had arisen. "There are things that must be done before analysts leave the Grid that cannot just be handed off to the next shift."

"I'm not suggesting an ignorance of the system," she spoke up, blushing even as her eyes flashed fire. "I'm just suggesting that you might send him home – I will finish the reports and the collation for the morning. I have fresher eyes."

He continued to give her that appraising, guarded stare. "Do you have high enough clearance to do that, Miss Evershed?"

She paused, then said, "I have B level, red division. You tell me." The flippant answer startled them both. "I'm – I'm sorry –"

"No need to apologize," he replied in a cool, even tone, attempting to unruffle her feathers. "Your work today was invaluable and I thank you for stepping up. Our last three analyst candidates have not risen to the challenge, so I hope fervently that you will fill the hole nicely, Miss Evershed."

"Ruth," she interjected. "Please – it's one syllable rather than four. I would rather you shout that, sir." Her sudden assertion of a kind of boldness under his backhanded compliment made her cheeks flush pink. "May I call Malcolm a cab or –"

"I'll get the service to drive him home," Pearce said. "Stay here." He picked up the phone and dialed the analysis desk, waiting for a beat. "Malcolm, old chap – I'll call for a car and you may leave. Miss Eversh- Ruth – Ruth has volunteered to finish. No, I don't anticipate a problem with that. Thank you, Malcolm." He hung up and went back to that appraising stare. "How long do you anticipate this to take?"

She shook her head slightly, dismissively, looking up from the corner of his desk where her gaze had been affixed. "An hour or so?" She looked him in the eyes as she said that. "Maybe less if I can condense relevant details more concisely."

Pearce had a fluffy baby-faced look about him, especially with his sparse, fluffy hair. He looked a little like the political fat cats, but she could tell that he still attempted to take care of himself and not go entirely to seed, despite the bit of fat around his belly. An irrational tug of attraction blindsided her for a moment before she pushed it back down and looked away.

"I'll get to work on that, then," she said, quietly disappearing from his office, hoping that he didn't realize that she suddenly had been struggling. She bid Malcolm good night and got to work. Forty-five minutes later, she sent Pearce a rapid succession of emails with files attached, then got her coat, scarf and purse.

She resolved to be gone before he left his office to dismiss her, and she reminded herself that she was just the new girl and on shaky ground until she'd settled in. Best not to provoke Pearce any further – he might take it as a sign that she was looking for something more than she was.

* * *

Harry had lost the thread of the Home Secretary's long, rambling conversation a long time ago. His eyes had glazed over somewhere about minute five, and it wasn't as if he hadn't stopped listening altogether. No, he was just sleeping with his eyes open.

He glanced at his watch – ten minutes past two am. If his analysts hurried up and finished their paperwork, he might get home by five and then he could manage a nap and a shower before his morning briefing with the PM. Speaking of analysts, the new one was good – immensely good, focused, and she caught tiny details that others missed.

Evershed, her name was, wasn't it? He'd have to check her file again, but that sounded right. He'd known she was due to start today, but somehow, that didn't matter in the middle of a desperate play to regain control of a WMD. She'd been thrown into their midst and survived to tell the tale with only a couple of small scars. He'd raised his voice with her once or twice, but she was maddeningly hesitant and almost coy with her responses – he would have accused her of mucking about if he hadn't correctly interpreted her reticence as shyness and a determination to be correct before leaping. The look in her eyes as he'd shouted made him wonder if he would be looking at another transfer request – or worse, resignation – in the morning.

The Home Secretary droned on and on, and Harry wondered if the bastard ever shut up – or if he just loved the sound of his own prattling so much that it was a physical impossibility. He was grateful for the knock on his door, however curt his voice was when he snapped, "Come in." Speak of the devil, and Evershed appeared, looking small and very un-spook-like. "I will call you back, Home Secretary." He hung up the phone and said, "Unctuous git." The words had left his lips before he could catch them, so his shoulders momentarily slumped in weary defeat before he slipped his neutral mask back on. He only hoped that she did not see it. "What can I do for you, Miss Evershed – it is Miss Evershed, isn't it? Don't tell me I've forgotten your name in the heat of the moment." It was a lame joke, but it fell even flatter than he'd expected – his charm was almost nonexistent after 96 hours on the Grid.

"No, that's right," Ruth said, "sir. Ruth Evershed." She looked incredibly uncomfortable in his office, and her use of the word 'sir' underscored the point that she wouldn't be there at all if it weren't important.

He had a maddening moment of what he thought might be comprehension – she was new, achingly new, and had been thrown into the lion's den without preamble or defense. She wanted to confront him about that – better head it off. "I apologize that a more formal training arrangement wasn't in place for today," Harry said, "but I suppose that on your feet acclimatization will have to do until things calm. Did your codes work adequately?" Another fear of his: that his team would not have adequate training or know how to use their tools accurately. God knows, he couldn't figure out the hand-held prototype that he was meant to be field testing.

"Yes, sir – but that's not why I'm here." She looked edgy, cagey, as she glanced away from him, refusing to meet his steady gaze. Shit, he swore internally, he was going to lose another one – too much, too soon, not enough training to prepare them to be thrust in the middle of a high-end operation, not enough experience beforehand to know that this was just the way it was anymore…

His tone was guarded as he said, "Why are you here, Miss Evershed?" A million reasons tumbled about in his head, each more dire than the last, and he resolved to get on his knees and beg if it meant she would just stay. She was a good fit – an excellent fit – and he needed her, even if she was just a shy little filly of a desk spook. She had proven herself to be invaluable today and he had no doubt with proper looking after, she could become so much more.

She was picking at her thumb, a nervous tick, so he knew she wasn't comfortable speaking up about whatever it was she needed to bring up. "I, uh – did you – were you aware that Malcolm has been awake for the last 72 hours, at least?" Her voice was soft and not accusing, but he knew she was feeling defensive before she'd even spoken. "He's very weary and it's beginning to show in his paperwork."

Concern for your co-workers usually didn't factor into their lives on the Grid, so he barely forced back raised eyebrows as it sunk in that she had already fit into the hole left behind by the last analyst and made it her own. She couldn't see that, wouldn't see that, but he knew he'd made the right decision in choosing her over her colleagues.

He decided to play the hardliner boss on this one, see how it would play out. He wanted to see if she would back down meekly, or if she would fight for Malcolm's honor. "Malcolm knows his limitations, Miss Evershed. There are things that must be done before analysts leave the Grid that cannot just be handed off to the next shift."

Her body language shifted from shy to angry in a flash, her eyes sparking with well-tempered irritation. "I'm not suggesting an ignorance of the system." Evershed's tone was sharp and her face flushed even as she got angrier – angry was good, he could work with it. "I'm just suggesting that you might send him home – I will finish the reports and the collation for the morning. I have fresher eyes."

Enlightening, this little chat, Harry thought to himself. She flashed hot and cold, but her temper was collected and even. She wanted to alleviate others' suffering and do good deeds within the system. Yes, she was a good fit – especially in dealing with Tom and Danny's minor explosions of temper. "Do you have high enough clearance to do that, Miss Evershed?" It was an honest question – he didn't honestly remember how much he'd decided to trust her when he'd had Malcolm update her user profile. He had a fleeting moment of wanting to give her A level and black protocols and let her take over for him for a couple of days, but right now, they were discussing Malcolm's apparent exhaustion.

Malcolm was just getting over a virus of some persuasion – AlkaSeltzer and crackers had been his best friends as of late – or he would still have been fighting fit even after 80 hours of insanity. But Harry was determined to see the inner workings of Evershed, so he was going to play the arse and force her responses.

"I have B level, red division. You tell me." The flippant answer startled them both, if her blinking and his visceral jerk were anything to go by. "I'm – I'm sorry –"

"No need to apologize," he replied in a cool, even tone, attempting to unruffle her feathers. "Your work today was invaluable and I thank you for stepping up. Our last three analyst candidates have not risen to the challenge, so I hope fervently that you will fill the hole nicely, Miss Evershed."

It was neutral enough, not needy, carefully worded to inspire trust and he hoped to god that she understood that he was not attempting to punish her for speaking out. These games – he was getting too old to play them. He could flirt with a honeyed tongue, but coaxing Evershed out of her shell was going to be a challenge, even for him.

"Ruth," she interjected. "Please – it's one syllable rather than four. I would rather you shout that, sir." He wondered if she realized that her words had a second meaning and her choice of them had given away something very important – and he shifted in his chair, breaking the impasse before she could feel threatened by him. She stammered, "May I call Malcolm a cab or –" Her cheeks were stained pink and he had a fleeting moment of wondering if she blushed like that when she came, or if her whole body suffused pink. Oh dear god, what fresh hell of a slippery slope was that question? And where had it even come from?

He backtracked internally, trying to find the thread of the plot instead of his cock's stupid wants.

"I'll get the service to drive him home," Pearce said. "Stay here." He picked up the phone and dialed the analysis desk, waiting for a beat. "Malcolm, old chap – I'll call for a car and you may leave. Miss Eversh- Ruth – Ruth has volunteered to finish."

Malcolm's voice was guarded. "Are you sure, Harry? She's quite new – she mightn't understand everything you need in the reports. Will her clearance hold?"

" No, I don't anticipate a problem with that. Thank you, Malcolm." He hung up and went back to staring at Ruth, trying to rattle her cage without prompting an incident. "How long do you anticipate this to take?"

She'd been staring at the corner of his desk so she wouldn't have to look at him directly, clearly unsure of her place in the hierarchy at that moment, but then her steady – albeit nervous – gaze lifted to his. "An hour or so?" There was a beat – not even really a pause, just a quick inhalation of breath and a flash in her eyes that might have been something other than the cause he might attribute to it. He couldn't read her well enough yet. Yet. That simple word implied that he would know soon enough. The reality was, he was going to turn her inside out until he knew her responses as well as his own. It was the only way to effectively control his team. "Maybe less if I can condense relevant details more concisely." Her words were subtly infused with confidence, and he felt sure that she would do just that.

She was appraising him with a pointed, hard look, her eyes wandering up and down him as if sizing him up – and there was that flash in her eyes again that he almost thought could be desire, but it was gone as quickly as it had come.

"I'll get to work on that, then," she said, quietly disappearing from his office as quickly as she'd appeared.

He took a couple of calming breaths, his nostrils flaring, trying to convince himself that she would reach her self-imposed deadline and that she wouldn't leave the Grid in a bad temper because of him. He did need her – apparently in more ways than one, he thought ruefully, trying to think of Queen and country to tame his erection. He didn't usually fancy submissive women – they were too repressed and it took far too much work to get them to open up and have a bit of fun, dearie.

There was something different about Ruth Evershed, though, as his trousers were clearly attempting to tell him as they attempted to cut off all circulation. She wasn't beautiful in a conventional sense, like most of the lovers he'd taken, but she had a good body and a gentle demeanor and clearly, he was going to have to watch himself in the future – assuming she came back to work ever again.

After his shouting earlier, she'd looked like he'd slapped her. She probably would finish her work and never come back.

He poured himself a shot of whiskey and gulped it neat, letting the liquor burn its way down his throat, relaxing him enough to calm his body and reclaim his concentration. He called the Home Secretary back, made several other calls – all equally important – and only glanced up when his email notification chimed in rapid succession.

The operation files, and tomorrow's PM briefing, were all in his inbox, neat and tidy and clean – entirely more concise and to the point than Malcolm's versions of the same reports over the last few weeks. He went to the door of his office to thank her, but Ruth was already gone and he was alone on the Grid.

He stepped out and looked around, his eyes falling on the analysis desk and seeing her coffee mug with a light imprint of her neutral lipstick – whatever had been left of it after 24 hours – on the rim.

She'd left her mug.

It was a good sign; the best possible sign he could have imagined.

END PART ONE


	2. Chapter 2

Two:  
First Life-Threatening Situation

She was just about to put her book away for the night and sink into some deliciously depraved dreams when she heard something shift downstairs. It was a tinkle of glass breaking, and she sighed, getting ready to roll out of bed and confront Fidget on the inappropriateness of the cat breaking mummy's things again. But then she heard a thump – a very human sounding thump.

Ruth rolled out of bed, closed the door and locked it, knowing that they would come looking for her next and it might delay them a few seconds – a moment, at best. She dug the sidearm out of her wardrobe; the sidearm that Harry bloody Pearce had insisted that she qualify for and take home with her for self-protection. She slipped her feet into some shoes, and thought about climbing out the window.

He'd said she'd be part of a drill, soon – a kind of a training scenario – and she briefly wondered if he was cruel enough to rouse her out of sleep to do it. Of course he was: Harry was nothing if not a right prick when it came to doing things unexpectedly and to great effect.

She held perfectly still, her breath catching and stilling into nothing as she listened. Nothing.

She grabbed her phone and went to the window, pulling the curtains aside just enough to see down into the street – and the men and car surveiling her house. She was suddenly certain that Harry hadn't ordered this, but she rang his emergency direct line anyway to make sure.

"Ruth?"

"Please tell me you don't know anything about the people who are breaking into my house right now, Harry Pearce, or I will shoot you myself," she exhaled in a quiet rush. "There look to be six on the street and I don't know how many in my downstairs."

His silence was anxious, tense. "Get out of there. Now. I'm sending backup."

"You don't know, then? This isn't my training exercise?" she breathed, her heart thundering in her chest as it sank in just how much danger she was actually in.

"No – Ruth, get out of there," he hissed.

She heard a tell-tale creak on the stairs, and she made for the south window that overlooked the side garden, tucking her gun in the waistband of her sleep pants. "I'm going – no pockets for my phone," she whispered, hanging up and dropping the phone out the open window. She hoped it wouldn't be smashed to bits or lost in the jungle of her garden, but, then again, she was planning on shimmying down the trellis, so what did she have to lose?

Someone jiggled the handle on her bedroom door, and she began the climb, cursing herself for being out of shape – and for not letting Malcolm beef up her security. Well, if she made it out of this alive, she was going to let him do whatever the hell he wanted to do.

She hit the ground and winced when her ankle rolled slightly on impact, but it wasn't anything she couldn't handle. She hunted briefly for the phone, finding it in a patch of overgrown rose briars, and she redialed. "Harry." There were a thousand things she wanted to say, but all she could settle on was, "I'm afraid."

She heard him struggling to remain calm. "I am sorry, Ruth. This must be about the item I gave you to hide." His tone was apologetic, quiet, resigned, as if he'd known that this might happen. She wondered if this is why he'd made her qualify, had asked Malcolm to sweet talk her into beefing up her security. There was a brief moment when she hated him, and then another where it was all really quite sweet: he cared enough to try to keep her safe. But maybe it had to do more with the secrets on the USB stick, protecting them. State secrets.

They were made of secrets – four weeks at Section D, and this is how she might die.

Ruth curtly whispered, "If I get out of this, you're going to get a right bollocking, Harry Pearce."

His laugh was tense, and it revealed more about how much danger she was in than anything else had yet. She inhaled deeply and he said, "I'm actually looking forward to that." The implications of his words confirmed the uncertain precariousness of the situation. "Don't hang up the line –"

She began to creep along the fence toward the disused hidden gate that led to the neighbor's back garden. What did it say that she'd mapped out every escape route available to her? That she had known that at some point, she would be used as more than just an analyst? That she would willingly put herself in a death-defying scenario because Harry Pearce had simply asked if he could trust her?

Of course he could trust her. She would never willingly –

She got the gate open and ran straight into a person, bouncing off them and hitting the ground with force. She scrambled for her firearm, her phone, coming up with neither – because the phone was in the man's left hand, already pressed against his ear, and the gun was trained on her.

"Hello, Harry – it has been a while," the man said in a thick French accent. "I have your operative and if I do not have the Unicorn Protocols in thirty minutes, she will die." He put the phone on speaker and continued, "Miss Evershed, tell Mr. Pearce that you are unharmed."

Ruth inhaled and exhaled quickly, several times. "Sir," she said very quietly, attempting to keep her voice steady, "I am unharmed."

Harry's voice was tinny and far-away on the speaker. "Jean-Paul, she knows nothing. Let her leave and I will bring you the protocols –"

Jean-Paul laughed then. "Oh please, Harry, you think you can play games with me at this stage? It's very simple: 29 minutes from now, she will die. How she dies is your call – she can die a hero to the world and a martyr to your country, or she can die horribly."

There was a sudden thickness to the air and Ruth knew that she was alone in this: Harry couldn't rightfully send a team in to retrieve her, not without risking all of their lives. She was one person and she didn't matter in the scheme of things. And god, she was glad she didn't have to make that call – poor Harry.

"Let me speak to Miss Evershed," Harry said.

"You are," Jean-Paul snapped.

Ruth inhaled, exhaled, tried to stop her heart from hammering in her chest, but it was futile. She was going to die and she hadn't even been able to flirt with Harry. Not that she would have been any good at it, but it might have been fun to see his face –

"Ruth," Harry said quietly. "Thank you. For everything you've done."

She paused and stared at her captor full on, formulating her response very carefully. "Thank you, sir, for trusting me." A beat, a breath, an unblinking moment, staring down this monster. "I'm sorry that this will mar your birthday. Did you receive your gift?"

The tension was thick enough that it could be sliced with a knife, crackling down the phone like electricity. "I did. Thank you – Mallory is a good choice. I haven't re-read the legends in a while."

"I marked a passage that I thought you might enjoy," she said, hoping to god that Jean-Paul couldn't read her. "About nobility and sacrifice." She lifted her chin defiantly. "Harry, when you call my mother, please tell her that I was brave. Don't let her think that I was anything but."

"I will," he promised.

Jean-Paul took the phone off speaker and said into it, "Really, Harry, you've lost touch, haven't you? This one isn't even pretty enough to bother with." He hung up and sneered at Ruth before driving her inside through the back door.

Ruth was tied to a chair, bound and gagged, forced to watch Jean-Paul and his goon squad remove all of her books from the shelves, arranging them in a circle around her chair. She knew Harry wasn't coming, no one was coming, and she had to remain brave. This was how she would die, then, for Queen and country?

Jean-Paul regarded her passively from the corner and said, "You have a choice, since we both know that Harry Pearce will not capitulate to my insistence. I will give you control of your death, Miss Evershed. If you tell me where you've hidden the Unicorn Protocols, I will merely shoot you in the head – quick and clean. If you resist, I will set all of this," he gestured around the room, "ablaze, and you will die slowly and painfully."

She choked against the gag and wriggled a little bit, trying to get some kind of leverage, but she was basically immobile. And he was entertained by her efforts.

Eventually, he came over and pulled the gag away, giving her a little kiss on the cheek. "Please be reasonable," he said softly. "I would hate to think I would be the cause of such suffering."

"You can go fuck yourself," she spat, "because I don't know anything about any protocols."

He pistol-whipped her across the face, and she saw stars. "You were given a USB drive two days ago –"

"It was a drive of photos related to an open case!" she protested.

He hit her again. "Do not lie to my face," he hissed. "Where is the drive?"

She tilted her chin and smirked. "Safe."

An unspeakable rage settled onto his face. "So you've chosen, then."

She pursed her lips together and said, "I have." She chose to live bravely, even for just a few moments. She chose to push aside her fear and know that she had done everything she could. The thumb drive was safe and far from here. She would not reveal its location. And the world would continue rotating on its axis without her – it wouldn't even wobble a little bit.

"Too bad," he sighed. "I wish we could have come to terms on this –"

"Fuck you." The words hung in the air, suspended, and she shook her head. "Just do it, then – Harry isn't coming and he won't give you what you want, no matter what you do to me." She was small, unimportant, a tiny cog in a bigger system that would keep running without her.

Jean-Paul smiled slightly, then said, "Do you know why Harry chose you for this mission?" Her stare was unflinching, and she did not respond. "Because you're not pretty enough to fuck. If you were, he would have you in his bed and some other poor spook would be about to die." He gave a single, curt order to his men and got up to open her front window. "Good night, Miss Evershed."

Then he and his men were gone, and she knew that her time was through. She had made her choice, and twenty seven minutes had passed entirely too quickly. She heard their voices outside, and then the crackling of flames from where they had tossed a lit cigarette onto her petrol-soaked sofa.

Ruth inhaled shakily, hoping that they had been nice enough to let Fidget out when they'd gone. She knew once the flames reached the circle of books, they would act as kindling, fueling the fire and trapping her even more effectively. All of this – all of this – for a memory stick. She began to sweat as the flames grew hotter, and she struggled to balance so she could move the chair, but it was too heavy and her bindings too tight. If she screamed, no one would hear her.

She wanted to hear his voice, reassuring, calming her as he had done so many times the last few weeks. Harry had encouraged and pressured her, and she had responded in kind. They gave and took, becoming quick friends – and his trust, she would never betray. Which is why, instead of hiding the USB in her library like had been the plan, she had carefully hollowed out a copy of Sir Mallory's Arthurian legends, hiding the memory stick inside, and returned it to him under the too-real guise of his birthday. It was safe, and she had done her job.

She closed her eyes, feeling the flames licking her skin as the outermost pile of books hissed and caught fire. She let out a tiny whimper, knowing that the end would be soon. So soon.

"RUTH." Her bindings snapped free and Tom Quinn was kneeling at her feet. "Open your damn eyes and move, you dozy cow – do you really have a fucking death wish?"

She opened her eyes and shot up out of the chair. He wrapped them up in a blanket and they ran through the flames, scattering the wall of books. They didn't stop running until they were well-clear of the scene.

Tom stopped her four streets down, and checked her over. "You'll be all right," he said curtly. He pulled out his phone and dialed. "Harry, it's done. Ruth is all right, aside from a few superficial burns and some head trauma. I'm bringing her in." He held out the phone to her and said, "Harry wants to speak to you."

She was in shock, on the verge of tears, but she took the phone and whispered, "Harry –"

"I'm going to cancel your training exercise," he said in an equally hushed tone. "After this, extraction and interrogation don't seem like a good idea."

She felt hysterical laughter bubble up in her throat. "I hate you," she exhaled.

"At least you're here to hate me," he pointed out. "He set the fire early, Ruth – it's only been twenty-three minutes."

She let that sink in, and her voice shook when she said, "Can you – can you have a shot of whiskey waiting for me?"

"Ruth, you can have the whole bloody bottle," Harry said sharply. "Just get here in one piece."

She stared at the phone, her heart beating even faster – she had heard something in his tone that didn't fit their relationship as manager and wage slave. And it was thrilling and frightening at once – concern that went beyond what he should have felt for her.

Tom helped her into his waiting car and headed toward Thames House at speed, in silence.

* * *

He was just about to leave the Grid when the emergency line beeped. Malcolm thought it would be funny for its ringtone to be a loud SOS in Morse code, but that just made Harry jump out of his chair every time it rang. He glanced at the caller ID and picked up in a hurry. "Ruth?"

Her voice was a low, tense whisper. "Please tell me you don't know anything about the people who are breaking into my house right now, Harry Pearce, or I will shoot you myself. There look to be six on the street and I don't know how many in my downstairs."

So Jean-Paul Valmont was on the move and he knew that the USB had changed hands. She was in peril – not the kind of princess and dragons peril of fairy tales, but something far more terrifying and immediate. He had squared off with Valmont many times, and the man's derision and sadistic nature had just gotten worse over the years. "Get out of there. Now. I'm sending backup."

"You don't know, then? This isn't my training exercise?"

"No – Ruth, get out of there," he hissed. Get out and don't stop running – there was no guarantee that he could protect her if she didn't start running RIGHT THEN.

"I'm going – no pockets for my phone," she whispered, hanging up.

The next three minutes were tense. Harry was on edge, holding on to the knowledge that Ruth was resourceful and might stand a chance. He wished he'd forced the issue of the security upgrade and a protection team, but she'd just rolled her eyes and blown him off, underestimating completely the lengths that someone would go to in order to retrieve a single scrap of information.

He trusted her implicitly – maybe even moreso than he trusted himself.

The line rang again and he snatched it up, just listening.

"Harry." There was a long pause, and just the sound of her breathing. Then, "I'm afraid."

"I am sorry, Ruth. This must be about the item I gave you to hide." It was, and they both knew it – but that was the spy game. She had agreed to this mission, and now there were consequences. His tone shifted, though, into resignation and dismal defeat – he had never meant to harm her, to put her into a position for harm to be inflicted upon her. He valued her too much as a colleague, a friend – and in his darkest dreams, something altogether different and thrilling.

They were made of secrets – four weeks at Section D, and she held what was left of his heart delicately in her small hands. And she didn't even know it. Ruth had no idea that she had rocked him to the very core of his being – she could never know.

Ruth curtly whispered, "If I get out of this, you're going to get a right bollocking, Harry Pearce."

He couldn't help but laugh at that assertion – the likelihood of her making it back to the Grid was slim, even though he'd already sent Tom a message to extract her immediately. "I'm actually looking forward to that. Don't hang up the line –"

Don't hang up, because I need to know that you're all right – the words were unspoken and broken, like his soul. The heart-wrenching uncertainty of not knowing if she was going to make it back to the Grid was like a poison, and Harry hated himself for falling so deeply, so quickly. He hated himself for being weak and trusting her implicitly – he hated himself for putting her in harm's way.

There was a scuffle, and then his heart sank. "Hello, Harry – it has been a while," Jean-Paul said in a thick French accent. "I have your operative and if I do not have the Unicorn Protocols in thirty minutes, she will die." He put the phone on speaker and continued, "Miss Evershed, tell Mr. Pearce that you are unharmed."

"Sir," she said very quietly, attempting to keep her voice steady, "I am unharmed." Harry heard the slight waver and knew she was panicking, but she wasn't hurt.

He decided to play the game. It would buy Tom time to get to Ruth's. "Jean-Paul, she knows nothing. Let her leave and I will bring you the protocols –" He wouldn't: he didn't know where Ruth had hidden them, to be honest. They'd discussed her library, but nothing had been definite and he'd left it up to her judgment.

Jean-Paul laughed then. "Oh please, Harry, you think you can play games with me at this stage? It's very simple: 29 minutes from now, she will die. How she dies is your call – she can die a hero to the world and a martyr to your country, or she can die horribly."

He took a deep breath, knowing that his position was absolutely untenable. She would know from his silence the same thing and fear his betrayal and jump straight to the conclusion that he would not be coming. Buy Tom some time. "Let me speak to Miss Evershed," Harry said.

"You are," Jean-Paul snapped.

Stall, dodge, thrust, parry. Harry needed her to know that she was not just a pawn. "Ruth," he said quietly. "Thank you. For everything you've done."

"Thank you, sir, for trusting me." A beat, a breath, an eternity. "I'm sorry that this will mar your birthday. Did you receive your gift?"

A bottle of scotch and a book of Arthurian legend – she had good taste, at least. He was grateful, even if he didn't want to remember the passage of time. He was glad that she cared enough to have thought of him at all. "I did. Thank you – Mallory is a good choice. I haven't re-read the legends in a while."

"I marked a passage that I thought you might enjoy, about nobility and sacrifice." Oh shit. Oh shit, it couldn't be that simple – had she? He flipped open the book to the place with the bookmark and stifled his shock. She was a better spy than he could ever have guessed - "Harry, when you call my mother, please tell her that I was brave. Don't let her think that I was anything but."

"I will," he promised. God willing, he would never have to make that call. Tom would get there in time. He had to.

Jean-Paul took the phone off speaker and said into it, "Really, Harry, you've lost touch, haven't you? This one isn't even pretty enough to bother with." He hung up.

Harry turned the USB stick over in his palm, closing his eyes. Ruth, his Ruth – and when had she become that to him? – was in the hands of a monster and she was facing certain death. All for this stupid piece of plastic and circuitry. If she made it out alive, he wasn't sending her into the field for a VERY long time.

He called Tom and said, "Unicorn is secure. Extraction at all costs, Tom." His voice was little more than a croak now, hard, desperate, angry. "You have twenty minutes at best."

"Tell me why you're so earnest," Tom said, his voice cold and calculated. "It's just Ruth. There are a thousand analysts just like her. She did her job."

Harry exhaled, his voice weak as he admitted, "I'm half in love with her, Tom – just bring her back and we'll never have reason to speak of this again. If she dies, I will kill you in your sleep."

He could hear Tom's jaw clench, then unclench. "Understood." They cut the line.

He poured himself a shot of whiskey, his hands shaking so badly that it splashed over the edge of the glass. How could he have asked this of her? Was trust so hard to come by? He drained the glass and closed his eyes, knowing that he had revealed too much to his Section Chief. But she would never know – he would never tell her that her mere smile made his belly flip and his heart swell. He couldn't tell her: it would only put her in more danger.

A few minutes passed and he had one shot, then another, and just when he thought he might have a third, the line rang. "Harry, it's done. Ruth is all right, aside from a few superficial burns and some head trauma. I'm bringing her in." Tom's voice was curt, barely restrained with fury.

"Let me speak to her," Harry said.

Ruth's voice was a barely-there whisper. "Harry –"

"I'm going to cancel your training exercise," he said in an equally hushed tone. "After this, extraction and interrogation don't seem like a good idea." It wasn't reassuring in the slightest, knowing that her training exercise might have been very similar to this – but the bullets weren't real.

"I hate you," she exhaled, her tone bordering on hysterical.

"At least you're here to hate me," he pointed out. "He set the fire early, Ruth – it's only been twenty-three minutes." As he'd known that Jean-Paul would do. The man was a Sadist and enjoyed nothing more than inflicting pain and suffering.

Her voice was shaking said, "Can you – can you have a shot of whiskey waiting for me?"

"Ruth, you can have the whole bloody bottle," Harry said sharply. Er, what was left of it. "Just get here in one piece." He hung up before she could possibly realize that he was crying.

This was so much worse than he could ever imagine. And he hated himself more every moment.

END PART TWO


	3. Chapter 3

Three:  
First Betrayals

Sitting out on the Embankment with Tom, listening to him accuse her of the things which she had been doing made Ruth feel like a right piece of shit. All of the justifications, the reasoning, they didn't matter anymore – she had betrayed her team, had put the fate of the free world in danger all by herself.

It was chilly, but she felt even colder inside. She knew they all thought she was mad – an utterly crackers lunatic that should be locked up – but she wasn't. Not really. She'd just been nervous, so nervous, and now this – and she would have to leave, wouldn't she? She'd have to go back to GCHQ and pretend that she'd not cocked everything up.

"I suppose you have evidence," she said, trying to keep her tone even and calm.

"Computer traffic from your station, yes." Tom's voice was carefully modulated and Ruth couldn't tell if he was angry, disappointed, or both. She could barely even look at him.

"I coded it good," she said, that hysterical urge to laugh welling up in her again and she couldn't hold back the hint of smile. She had – she really had. To the best of her abilities, she had covered her tracks. The one time – the ONE time – she had cocked up, it was this.

"Colin uncoded it good. You betrayed us." There is was, then: that invisible line in the sand. She wasn't one of them, then, was she? Not really. Not anymore. He'd challenged her to the defense of the Realm and she'd lost the pissing match by default because she'd undermined herself from the onset.

Worst of all, she'd betrayed herself. Or she would do, because this was an interrogation, wasn't it? Accusation, interrogation, elimination. She was a problem, and he was going to deal with her before she became Harry's liability.

"MI-5 is a government department. I only told Downing Street what you were doing." Her courage from a few weeks back had fled, and she was back to being small and insignificant – a cog in the system. A cog that was about to disappear for good. "The government can't betray itself to itself, can it?" The words were hollow and trite, even to her ears.

"Don't be naïve, Ruth. You know exactly what's going on here – GCHQ planted you on us." Tom was beyond angry, but she couldn't read how far beyond – would he come after her in her sleep, then? Or would he just go to Harry? Go to Harry and she was as good as gone – and she couldn't go, not now. This was her home, her team, and she would be lost without them. She would be all alone in her dingy little flat with the damn cat – and she'd become the crazy cat lady with a library full of dusty books and wearing a purple hat and red shoes to weddings and funerals.

She wasn't ready for that – any of it. So she took a leap of faith, a gamble. "Tom, I so much wanted to join MI-5. To be a real spy." It was the truth, wrapped in shining paper and a big red bow. "They said I could have the transfer if… very occasionally, I reported what you were doing. I mean, this is the first time I've done it." She couldn't possibly feel guiltier – couldn't possibly gild the lily because it was already tarnished. She'd been caught out and that was that.

"What, reported directly to Amanda Roke?"

She didn't even hesitate or try to form a real response – just nodded, bobbing her head in a motion that made her slightly nauseated.

"Well, now, you're a classic double agent!" Tom's sarcastic, flippant response made her feel even queasier. "How does real spying feel?" His censure was painful – not as painful as telling Harry would have been, but this was Tom Quinn. This was the man she reported to, who had risked his life to save hers from the fire in her house that was no more. And she was suddenly desperate for him to accept her again.

He was assessing her response, so she might as well be as forthright as she could. "The horrible thing is, it's rather exciting," she said, unable to look remorseful about the whole matter as she smiled nervously, awaiting the hammer and gavel of his pentultimate judgment.

"Ruth, I've got two officers in the field at high risk. You want to get Danny or Zoe crucified on Hampstead Heath?"

It was over, then: he'd made up his mind firmly about her. "Don't," she said, her voice falling. They were her friends, her family, now, as well. Yes, she had passed on information – that in and of itself was wrong and she knew it. But to insinuate that she didn't care enough about them to feel remorse for her actions? That was below the belt in so many ways.

"I'll have to tell Harry."

There it was: her heart fell. She was the one that Harry could trust, wasn't it? Hadn't he said it so many times already? Praised her for even getting his cup of tea right as well as correctly assessing the worst threats and categorizing data into tiny piles of minutae. God, what had she done?

"I'm so bloody good at this job," she said before she could stop herself. "You know I am." It was desperate, a plea and a promise – an appeal for Tom to please, just give her one more chance. She knew he didn't particularly care for her, but had no idea why. To have to appeal to his basest nature and beg for one more opportunity to prove herself was demeaning to them both. "Well, that's that, then."

There was a pause, and he said, "Of course, double agents can be turned."

Ruth turned her head to look at him, her jaw going slack, her mouth hanging open wide. "Oh, Tom," she said softly, in shock at the implication of his words.

He reached over and touched her leg, imparting gravity to his next words. "You're on probation."

All of the heart-stopping fear drained away and she exhaled, "Thank you."

Tom got up and slipped away into the crowd of strolling people, and she was left with her thoughts as she stared across.

* * *

Harry was having a bit of fun at his team's expense, playing like a victim of VX gas. The drill had to seem real after all – to all intents and purposes, this was real. They weren't to know any different. Of course, secreting himself in his office and locking the door to be 'quarantined' was all well and good when he could have a bit of a lie-in on the floor and watch their progress on the tablet hooked in to the undetectable bugs around the main office. Hell, he even had his whiskey and a secret supply of Ding-Dongs that the Home Secretary had begged him to take off of his hands the other day.

He watched the team with interest, following their motions and countermotions, dancing around the untenable situation with tenacity. Of all people, Tom seemed most like he was the closest to losing a grip – which was the burden placed on a good leader. Removing himself from the scenario was meant to pressure Tom into making the decisions that would shape the outcome; to determine if they would survive or just expire.

Zoe was shaky, but holding steady. Danny and Colin squared off and it was quite amusing to see the lanky tech flipping Danny the bird rather than apologizing.

And then there was Ruth. Tom had told him about her betrayal to Downing Street, but Harry had already known. There were very few secrets, honestly. Ruth's bumbling attempt had no bearing on anything but Harry's level of trust – which is why, he told himself, he was scrutinizing her the hardest. She was unflappable, a rock in the path for the others to lean on.

When Tom had told him, it had led to an awkward conversation that Harry hadn't wanted to have. "You're emotionally compromised when it comes to her," Tom had said, his tone low and full of rebuke. "You told me as much before."

"Yes, I suppose I am," Harry replied. "But she makes me smile. I don't indulge myself much these days, Tom – the time for fast cars and loose women has come and passed for me. She could have done much worse than spy for GCHQ. So much worse – like Tessa."

"It stands to reason that she might betray us again," Tom said. "And who's to say it won't be worse next time?"

"You spoke to her – does she feel anything but remorse?"

Tom's response had been calculated. "She is suitably ashamed of herself."

"Then let it go," Harry said. "Ruth knows better now. And if she doesn't, on her head be it."

Tom watched him warily, looking for some reason, some ulterior motive to Harry's lax judgment. "She isn't good for you, Harry. Just so you know," he had said quietly. "She makes you soft, undermines your effectiveness as a leader –"

Harry sighed, knowing that it was true. And the truth couldn't be changed, could it? It was black and white, stone and gem, absolute. There were no sides, just facts.

He cared for her, could well fall in love with that timidly goofy smile and self-depricating laugh when she buggered something up unintentionally. And that made him weaker for the emotion. Tom was right. Achingly correct.

Harry saw her coming toward his office and he hid the tablet and the Ding Dongs, proceeding to act his heart out. He knew it was working by the amount of devastation on her face and Tom's as they locked him away for good. He held back a snicker and went back to the cakes, wondering if Ruth liked them, too.

Maybe there would be one or two left to share after the drill was over.

When it was over, everyone was crying, emotional, drained from exhaustion and stress. Except Harry, because the only way to keep going – the only way to reassure them - was to laugh and joke about it. Emotions were running so high that he couldn't even feel momentarily put out by Ruth's snappish, "You bastard."

To be honest, he enjoyed her concern for him – he didn't want to play it up, but it made his heart do a sudden jerk to know that she had been concerned enough to be angry now.

She accepted him pouring her a plastic cup of champagne but didn't smile at him like she had the others – and that hurt. It hurt worse than he could say.

His suggestion of a liquid lunch at the George was met with an enthusiastic reception from everyone – and he would foot most of the tab. After all, it was his doing, this trauma, this pain. It was the least he could do.

He was right behind Ruth in the pods, and she turned to him, smiling – and his heart melted. All was forgiven in the span of minutes: and champagne. All was forgiven.

END PART THREE


	4. Chapter 4

Four:  
First Reparations

Ruth curled her lip, looking at the snack cake. "So a Ding Dong is some ghastly American thing?" she asked, turning the package over. "How did you wind up with so many?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "I took them off the Home Secretary as a favor. Apparently, his last visit from the CIA came with some rather unfortunate repercussions in the form of a skid of snack cakes and crisps and he was rather desperate to unload them. I've got a couple of boxes of Twinkies at home that might be good for the emergency kit, seeing as how they are so…" He paused, then laughed at the absurdity of it all. "The crisps are quite dreadful as you might imagine. Nacho cheese doesn't compute."

She stifled a giggle, then said, "Really? You want me to take a box of these home with me?"

"I'm sharing my bountiful spoils," Harry replied, gesturing at the spread on his desk. "Take what you like – there's plenty more where that came from."

She shook her head and smiled, picking through the snacks till she found something that looked like it might not give her indigestion. "Thank you," she said. "They really are rather dreadful at snacks – whatever happened to a nice handful of nuts or seeds?"

"Ruth, sit down, please," Harry said. "I need to speak with you."

She stopped and stared at him with trepidation. "This is about the thing with the thing and me being on probation, isn't it?"

Harry sighed and just gestured for her to sit. When she had, he said, "You are a valuable member of this team, Ruth. And I am sorry for any part I might have had in making you feel that you were obligated to split your allegiances."

She didn't want to talk about this, not at all. She'd rather eat a bloody snack cake in hell than go over her motivations one more time. Mostly because now it was Harry twisting the bloody knife. "I agreed to do it before I met any of you," she said. "I only did it because I wanted to stay – because this is where I want to be and my secondment will be revoked at any time now because I'm no longer doing what they ask. I don't want to go back to GCHQ, Harry. I have nothing left to give them."

He regarded her passively, and she glanced away, afraid of the passion of her reply – of the well of emotion that he had suddenly plumbed within her. "Harry, I don't want to hurt anyone, but I will leave if that's what you want." She looked back at him, hoping that he'd not misinterpreted.

"Ruth, I'm not asking you to leave," he said in a mild tone. "I'm just asking you not to tread in those tracks again; it's dangerous, and next time, I won't be there to save you."

She swallowed hard and nodded. "Yes – yes, sir," she said quickly. "I promise I won't do the thing that affected the thing what got me into trouble."

Ruth was suddenly indignant when Harry burst out laughing. "Ruth, you sound like a little girl who has been sent to the corner for breaking her toys," he said.

She pursed her lips together, moving them around, trying to avoid smiling, but it burst through anyway, then a bit of a giggle. "Oh, god, I'm so sorry, Harry – I am – I really am –"

"I know," he said warmly, tossing a piece of chocolate across the desk. "Peace offering."

It was shitty American chocolate, but it was still chocolate. "Pax," she agreed, exhaling in relief. "Now, seriously, what are you going to do with all of these awful snacks?"

"I was going to let everyone cherry pick, then give the rest to Danny," Harry said in an amused tone. "That boy will eat anything."

"Oh, right," she said. "I almost forgot – I need to give you this." She handed him a socialization form from the folder she'd been carrying. "I met this bloke, you see, and – and – well, I'm told this is how it's done, so…"

Kirk was a computer genius she'd met out shopping for replacements for some of her things that had been destroyed in the fire. They'd met in the book shop, and gone for a coffee to discuss the merits of classical versus modern literature – and somehow had wound up in bed together. It was good, so good, and she wanted it to last.

The look on Harry's face was unreadable, but his eyes spoke volumes. "I'll hand this over to HR," he said. "If he's clear, it will be about four days for the permissions to come through."

"Thank you," she said with a smile. "Now, I've got to get back. Thank you for the crisps and the chocolate."

She had to get away from him before she saw that look of stunned anger in his eyes again.

* * *

She was making a disgusted face as she looked at the plastic-wrapped Ding Dong. "So a Ding Dong is some ghastly American thing?" Ruth asked, turning the package over. "How did you wind up with so many?"

Because he was just such a swell chap, he wanted to reply sarcastically. The reality had actually involved a near diplomatic incident over a lorry full of imported food from the United States that had somehow wound up in the hands of the Home Secretary – and after three weeks of getting rid of the skids from the load, Harry had finally agreed to take the last one and distribute it amongst his staff. Too bad all of it was rubbish.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I took them off the Home Secretary as a favor. Apparently, his last visit from the CIA came with some rather unfortunate repercussions in the form of a skid of snack cakes and crisps and he was rather desperate to unload them. I've got a couple of boxes of Twinkies at home that might be good for the emergency kit, seeing as how they are so…" He paused, then laughed at the absurdity of it all. "The crisps are quite dreadful as you might imagine. Nacho cheese doesn't compute."

Powdered orange cheese with spices gave him indigestion. Quite a bit did nowadays – he wished he could go off the whiskey diet, but his stomach was too used to liquid fortification now.

She stifled a giggle, then said, "Really? You want me to take a box of these home with me?"

"I'm sharing my bountiful spoils," Harry replied, gesturing at the spread on his desk. "Take what you like – there's plenty more where that came from." Please, dear god, take as much of it as possible so I can regain control of my house – it's like an invasion of evil.

She shook her head and smiled, picking through the snacks, finally settling on a couple bags of crisps and something that might have been a fairy cake in someone's imagination. "Thank you," she said. "They really are rather dreadful at snacks – whatever happened to a nice handful of nuts or seeds?" She turned to leave.

"Ruth, sit down, please," Harry said. "I need to speak with you." They'd been waiting too long to have this conversation.

She stopped and stared at him like he'd full-on slapped her face. "This is about the thing with the thing and me being on probation, isn't it?"

Harry sighed and just gestured for her to sit. When she had, he said, "You are a valuable member of this team, Ruth. And I am sorry for any part I might have had in making you feel that you were obligated to split your allegiances." He was sorry for any part he might have had in covering up her misdeeds, as well. Yes, he had taken much flack for that – from Tom and from the Home Secretary when he'd bashed the man's door down, screaming about not outspying a spy. It had been a spectacular show – they could have made a mint selling tickets. One night only, spy vs. politician.

He could tell she was upset and nervous because she was crushing her bags of crisps to oblivion and didn't even realize that she was doing it. "I agreed to do it before I met any of you," she said. "I only did it because I wanted to stay – because this is where I want to be and my secondment will be revoked at any time now because I'm no longer doing what they ask. I don't want to go back to GCHQ, Harry. I have nothing left to give them." She looked away, as if she was afraid of him. "Harry, I don't want to hurt anyone, but I will leave if that's what you want." She looked back at him, and he felt it very difficult to remain angry with her. Mostly because of the adorably soft way she looked when she bit her lower lip like that – deep in concentration, unaware of how intense she could be. He wanted to kiss her and tell her that it would all be right as rain.

Damn it, not again. The woman had him by the balls.

"Ruth, I'm not asking you to leave," he said in a studied, even tone, trying to belie how he felt about her. It was very troublesome in more ways than one. "I'm just asking you not to tread in those tracks again; it's dangerous, and next time, I won't be there to save you."

She swallowed hard, her throat convulsing with the involuntary movement – irresistible - and nodded. "Yes – yes, sir," she said quickly. "I promise I won't do the thing that affected the thing what got me into trouble."

She sounded absolutely absurd, to the point that he couldn't hold back a jolly laugh. "Ruth, you sound like a little girl who has been sent to the corner for breaking her toys," he said.

He could tell she was trying like hell not to smile, but then it shone through on the back of that hysterical little giggle of hers – the one that sounded like she had no right whatsoever to be laughing because she'd snogged someone in the back of Church. "Oh, god, I'm so sorry, Harry – I am – I really am –"

He hoped not really, not truly. It was good to hear her laughing; it did him good to hear her laugh. "I know," he said warmly, tossing a piece of chocolate across the desk. "Peace offering."

"Pax," she agreed, exhaling in relief. "Now, seriously, what are you going to do with all of these awful snacks?"

"I was going to let everyone cherry pick, then give the rest to Danny," Harry said, a jovial smile lingering on his lips. "That boy will eat anything."

"Oh, right," she said. "I almost forgot – I need to give you this." She handed him a socialization form from the folder she'd been carrying. "I met this bloke, you see, and – and – well, I'm told this is how it's done, so…"

It never once had occurred to Harry Pearce that Ruth Evershed would meet someone. He stared at the paper for a minute and felt a keen pang of painful, burning jealousy that someone was important enough to her to get the form filled out and turned in. His better angels won the day, though: he reasoned with himself that he should only continue to watch her from afar and take the tidbits she threw his way. She was safer that way. And he wanted HIS Ruth to be safe.

"I'll hand this over to HR," he said. "If he's clear, it will be about four days for the permissions to come through." If he wasn't cleared, Harry might go round and have a little chat with the boy. Preferably involving a gun and interrogation techniques that were disapproved of within polite circles. His Ruth would be safe, no matter the cost – she deserved to be happy.

"Thank you," she said with a smile. "Now, I've got to get back. Thank you for the crisps and the chocolate."

When she'd gone, Harry took a sip of his drink, then slammed the tumbler down on the desk with enough force to crack it. He had no right to be jealous of this fool, this man who thought he was worthy of Ruth's laugh, her smile, her kisses – he had no right to want to be in her bed. He was old, broken, cut of a cloth she wouldn't understand. Let her be happy, then, if she could.

At least he would have her days.

END PART FOUR


	5. Chapter 5

Five:  
First Official Function

Ruth stayed behind after the briefing as she'd been bidden by Harry. "I should be finishing the –"

"We have a change of plan," Harry said. "Zoe needs to be on the security detail, so I have need of a female agent for Project Lyonesse."

She blinked at him in hesitant surprise. "Uh –"

"Come on, Ruth, where's your sense of adventure?"

She licked her lips and said, "Do you remember the promise you made about no field work for a very long time?"

"Yes…"

"So you're not conveniently having amnesia about the fact that field ops plus Ruth equals a giant disaster of a cock-up?" Ruth asked anxiously, her voice rising in panic. "I'm still repurchasing books, Harry! And I just finally – FINALLY – managed to replace my china."

Harry exhaled and stared her down. She didn't like being on the receiving end of that stare – the one that implored her to be reasonable. She didn't like being reasonable. Being reasonable was for people who were coddled into thinking that they were safe. She was anything but safe. "Ruth, Zoe is too young, and Lyonesse has rejected her as a suitable officer," he attempted to reason.

"So, what, you showed her my photo and she said, 'sure, let's have her then? She's harmless enough!', eh?" Ruth challenged. "Are you mad? Have you lost your mind? I am not suited to this operation at all, Harry, and I have plans for my holiday time –" She and Kirk had made plans to go to Scotland and enjoy a perfectly indecent weekend on the sea making love and forgetting about their commitments in London.

"As of this morning, your holiday request has been suspended until the end of the operation –"

His words finally hit her brain and she opened her mouth, then closed it again. She tried to calm herself down, and finally just said, "I was going to Scotland with Kirk, you bastard."

Harry shrugged, which infuriated her in ways she couldn't even begin to fathom. It was if he didn't give a tinker's damn about anyone else's lives. She'd had plans, immediate plans, and now she was going to have to drop everything and come up with a plausible excuse to Kirk why she had to stay in town for an indefinite period.

"Well, now you're going to Buckingham Palace," he said. "Which, I suppose is a bit of a downgrade from Scotland, but you'll just have to make do."

"I hate you," Ruth spat. "You've not kept a promise yet – no field work my eye."

"They're compiling your legend as we speak," Harry said with a smile. "Lady Cassandra Cresswell of the Essex Cresswells, distantly related to the Duke of Kent's niece or something. Lyonesse approves of you, Ruth – you should take a compliment."

Ruth scowled at him. She was currently feeling an overwhelming animosity and rage toward him and was not about to think about Lyonesse complimenting her – and complimenting her on what, exactly? She had to have been vetted within an inch of her life for this, so was it the nine languages or the fact that she'd been Downing Street's little MI-5 mole and lived to tell the tale that was so damnably impressive?

"Ruth, please," Harry said, his voice gentle and charming. "If there was any other alternative… I would take it in a heartbeat."

She flung the file in her hands at him. "So first you think I'm good enough to do it, and now you're saying that I'm your very last resort? Make up your mind, Harry! You can't have it both ways – either I do it or I don't, and if I don't, Project Lyonesse is officially extinct, which causes so many more problems than it solves…"

He barely blinked at her outburst and she just wanted him to be as upset as she was. What a prick.

Harry sighed. "I originally proposed you for the Project, but I was overruled by Tom in favor of Zoe," he said in a mildly resigned tone. "So, here is your chance to prove yourself beyond a shadow of doubt, Ruth."

She glowered at him. "Well, I definitely don't have anything to wear for this," she said.

"Write down your particulars, including for undergarments and shoes, and I'll send someone to purchase items," Harry said. "They'll be yours to keep at the end of the operation."

Ruth deflated a little, feeling less anxious. "Okay, but anyone who's been at GCHQ will know me from my file and –"

"You'll be heading home now to start the makeup and hair," Harry said. "If that's all right –"

"Yeah, fine," she said, nibbling on her thumbnail. She had to stop doing that when she was nervous – it was wreaking havoc with her cuticles. "Do you really think I can do this?"

"I do," Harry said simply. "Now, as for the particulars of your introduction tomorrow night, it's the diplomatic dinner in honor of the Australian PM's visit to the UK – and I require a plus one."

"I definitely don't have a dress for that," Ruth said.

"I told you it was being taken care of," Harry soothed her. "After that, you'll take up your position in the Household with the intention of finding out who is leaking Lyonesse's private schedule. Not the public one, the private – the one that no one knows about but the PM."

Ruth swallowed and nodded slowly. "All right –"

"And I will come to your quarters in the Palace under the guise of being your current lover – or you mine. Either way, I cannot quibble." Harry smiled wanly. "It's the easiest way to pass information."

She merely nodded. "All right," she finally agreed.

* * *

She slid into back of the car with Harry, blushing. "I'm sorry, I'm a little off schedule –"

"No need for apologies," Harry said, appraising her with a smile in the dim light. "I trust the clothes fit?" To be honest, he was curious to find out if she approved of the gown he'd chosen for her appearance this evening. Ten thousand pounds was a lot to ask the taxpayers for foot for a dress, so he'd immediately pulled out his personal credit card and had bit the bullet. It wasn't often that you found something so entirely perfect for someone.

"Yes," Ruth said softly. "They're quite lovely – whoever picked them has excellent taste."

Harry preened a little. He'd had some small amount of help from Zoe, but it had mainly been him following guidelines set forth by Lyonesse's protocol secretaries. But the gown for tonight… that had been all him.

"Now," he said, "if we're to be lovers –"

She looked at him in alarm. "Harry!"

He gave her a dour look. "If we're meant to be lovers in your cover, we should give serious thought to things like appropriate displays of public affection. A kiss here and there. You mustn't blush when I touch you: you must pretend to enjoy it." Harry was looking forward to making her squirm. She really was quite repressed.

"You owe me for this," she swore softly.

He leaned over and tucked a stray strand of hair back. They'd given her extensions, so her hair was twined up in a lovely twirl, artful bits left loose and curling around her heart-shaped face. Her lips were lacquered a lovely shade of pink and he wanted to kiss her, smearing her artfully composed makeup. He'd never known that she could be so utterly devastating – she was magnificent in a way that made him ache with jealousy. This Kirk fellow had better understand what kind of a woman she was, how lucky he was –

He gently kissed her cheek, breathing a soft, "You look lovely," against the shell of her ear. "And I get to take you home tonight."

"Your driver gets to take me home," she said, her tone prickly. "You get to go home and take a cold shower."

Harry chuckled and said, "Try to act like you're besotted with me, Ruth – I know it's difficult."

"It wouldn't be so difficult if you weren't such a sodding arse," she said snippily. "And, for the record, I won't be needing that holiday after all. Kirk decided it was time to end things, since I obviously can't make time for him in my busy schedule of spying. So you can add that tidbit to my file – cannot handle social life due to annoying pests at work."

He was going to make an equally barbed comment but refrained when he saw the tears shining in her eyes in the darkness. "Ruth, I'm sorry –"

"No, don't bother," she said. "Tonight, I'm going to be your plus one and be lovely and charming and tomorrow, I'll be one of Lyonesse's ladies. That's enough stress, isn't it? Don't make it any worse, Harry."

The rest of the drive was made in silence.

* * *

The moment she took off the heavy woolen coat, she felt Harry's eyes on her. She fought valiantly not to blush under his scrutiny, but he just smiled and held out his hand to take hers as they walked through the metal detectors. Her bag beeped, but it was studded with metal bits – someone hadn't thought that through very well. They checked her over, Harry's brow furrowing as he watched.

"You are the most beautiful woman here," he commented dryly when she rejoined him. "The dress suits you."

She gently smoothed the dove grey satin and smiled at him. "Thank you," she said softly, trying to accept the compliment. "It's a Donna Karen – it must have cost a fortune."

He tucked her right arm around his, gently placing his hand over hers where it rested. "Don't you worry about that," Harry said in a reverent tone, as if she was the only thing of importance in his world at the moment.

He released her hand and gently – ever so gently – turned her face toward him. His lips on hers made her stop breathing for a second, but in the next moment, the sensation was gone and she was left in a daze. Was he kissing Ruth or Cassandra in that moment? God, she was rubbish at this.

They mingled and chatted, getting wine and champagne and all sorts of naughty finger foods that Palace parties were good for. Dinner was a strained affair where she was sat next to an overweight – all right, grossly obese – Cabinet Minister, and a Duke of the Realm: both of whom were attempting to ogle down the neckline of her gown. Harry was glaring thunder across the table and a ways slightly down, but she kept shooting him calming looks.

After dinner, they slipped into a room with the Queen – Lyonesse – and her head of security to introduce Ruth. She was given high praise and a wish for a quick resolution to the matter, and Ruth's head was spinning by the time they made it back out to the dance floor.

"Oh my god, the Queen," she breathed. "I've bloody well met the Queen now and – and – I'm going to be working with her now, aren't I?"

Harry was smiling at her, amused. "Who did you think Lyonesse was?" he whispered close to her ear.

"I knew it was her in theory, but now it's real," Ruth whispered back.

"Shall we?" Harry inquired, gesturing to the dance floor. She nodded and followed his lead, just as she always did. She noticed small things tonight – tiny things like that his eyes crinkled a certain way when he was pleased with himself. And that he was very handsome in his tails. And that they fit together very well, one of his hands splayed possessively in the small of her back.

He was very charming when he put his mind to it. She was hard-pressed to tell if he was just pretending for everyone else's benefit or if he was actually enjoying himself. He lowered his head unexpectedly, capturing her lips in a gentle kiss. She was surprised when his tongue ran over the seam of her lips, asking for entrance – which she granted with a small amount of trepidation. He deepened the kiss, then pulled back and led her off the dance floor. "Time to make our excuses – the coach is about to turn into a pumpkin again," he said.

A few minutes passed and they were in the car again, headed through the city toward her flat.

"Well, that was good," he commented.

She nodded and continued looking out the window, feeling conflicted as to whether or not she was supposed to want him as much as she did. That last kiss had left her weak in the knees and wanting more – so much more. But they weren't allowed to go there, were they? They were only playing at being lovers, but he had been so convincing. He even had her fooled.

He held her hand, twining their fingers together. "Thank you, Ruth."

"For what?" she asked.

"For not having a fit of hysterics when I kissed you in there."

She turned to face him then, blushing shyly. "Ah, yes, well – you made it quite enjoyable, Harry." Her voice was a borderline whisper in the thick air. "I should thank you."

"We should practice more – so we appear more natural…"

"Now you're just pushing your luck," she scolded him, her tone warm and fond. "Be careful – someone might get the idea that you like snogging me."

"Oh, but I do," Harry said with a smile, pulling her close for a kiss that left her punch-drunk. "I might have had a touch to much wine because I would really love it if you came home with me tonight, Ruth."

She inhaled sharply – this was Harry, for god's sake. He was practically going all gooey over her – not normal in the slightest, but she couldn't stop kissing him long enough to tell him no. "All right," she finally breathed, hoping he wasn't having her on.

They barely made it in the door and got the alarm off before he had her back slammed against the front door, hiking her skirt up around her hips. "Do you know how hard I've been all night, watching you?" he growled between kisses.

She was dazed and a little confused, but she didn't want him to stop – this was raw, primal, something between them that might never happen again, and she wanted it badly. His fingers traced the edge of her knickers, then went further with her permission. He brought her to orgasm quickly, fingering her between deep, probing kisses that were the closest thing to lovestruck that Ruth had ever felt.

Kirk had been good – but Harry was fanfuckingtastic. He palmed her breasts through the fabric of her dress, making her moan deep in her throat; a rumbling from the innermost reaches of her soul. He got her knickers down around her ankles somehow, and his pants and briefs down around his knees, and she had a momentary flash of panic – seriously, they were doing this? She was really going to shag her boss?

It was far too late for rational thoughts, she scolded herself as Harry nibbled on her earlobe and stroked her folds, spreading her wetness. "You're exquisite, Ruth," he panted against the shell of her ear, listening to her coming apart in his hands for a third time. "Don't ever doubt that."

She jerked his face to hers for a rough, hungry kiss. "As long as you're the one telling me that," she exhaled breathlessly, "I won't."

She bit her lip and held back a desperate moan as he began to enter her – it felt so damn good, and the illicit thrill of it being Harry she was with just made it that much hotter. She felt like she was on fire, and his tiny thrusts were maddening, driving the temperature up so much higher. The moment their hips were flush together, she bit down on his shoulder, whimpering and grabbing at his bum. He understood, fortunately, that she wasn't mentally deficient – she was just overwhelmed by the magnitude of emotion and everything else riding on this.

He rolled his hips, knocking her hips hard against the door. She whimpered and kissed him, letting him take point on this. Their thrusts and heated words, bodies slapping together with frank urgency were the only sounds in his house, and she was grateful for the silence.

Her body spasmed, everything shattering until all she felt was the tender ache of release. "Oh god," she breathed as they collapsed against the door, panting from exertion. "I – I – Oh, Harry."

He cradled her face in both his hands and kissed her so sweetly, she thought she might cry. "Exquisite," he reminded her so gently. "Although this wasn't planned, I am pleased that you've come round to the idea that being my lover might not be such an awful thing."

She exhaled weakly and said, "This changes everything –"

"This changes nothing," Harry said. "These feelings were obviously always here –"

She kissed him to shut him up. "I need to get this dress off before we ruin it completely," she insisted. "You can't get semen out of satin." She blushed a little, then added, "And I'm on the pill, by the way."

It was lost on neither of them that he hadn't made a move to pull out yet. "Am I being ungentlemanly in manhandling you?" he asked.

Ruth bit her lip and smiled, shaking her head. "But I could use a clean up," she said.

He retreated, looking flushed and love-drunk the way that only men could, like he'd just gotten the best of all the sweeties at the sweetie shop and he was still in awe of it. He tugged his pants back up and had the decency to blush at the torn panties on the floor. "Damn," he said.

"Uh, yes, those were taxpayers' knickers," Ruth commented. "How am I supposed to explain that?"

He leaned in and kissed her with a smile. "Sod the taxpayers, Ruth." He deepened the kiss, urging her to respond in kind. It was so powerful, the way he obviously wanted her – and she wanted him even more than that. But she pulled away and carefully unzipped and peeled off the expensive gown, flinging it over the table in his entryway.

She was left standing in a strapless bra, thigh-high stockings, and a pair of lovely pink leather heels. The heavy lust in Harry's eyes made her moan, and he hadn't even laid a hand on her since she'd gotten undressed. Her clit was humming and her belly was turning somersaults – and all she wanted was him. She didn't care if they were both a bit tipsy, she didn't care that she and Kirk had just broken up, she didn't care that this was supposed to be a cover… she wanted him with a kind of lonely desperation that she wondered if he felt as well.

He took her hand and led her upstairs to his bed.

As they slowly began again, she realized that she might have fallen in love with him already. It was big and scary, the depth of her feelings, but she couldn't think straight when his mouth was doing such delightful things.

The sun came up and they lay twined in each other's arms, sated and quiet. Quiet until he said, "Well, this complicates things just a touch."

She made a noncommittal noise and buried her face in his chest, inhaling deeply the scent of him and committing it to memory. It did more than complicate things, but she couldn't really bring herself to care.

END PART FIVE


	6. Chapter 6

Six:  
First Clandestine Operation

"So, you're seeing Harry Pearce, then?" one of the other Ladies in Waiting – Maura, wasn't it? – inquired slyly. "Isn't he just a touch…"

"Older?" Ruth supplied with a chuckle.

"Odd?" Maura finished. "I mean, he's an odd choice. He's got a different woman on his arm every dinner or function he attends."

Ruth's lips twitched slightly, knowing that he asked female officers to accompany him because they were easily denied and quick enough to break the link. "Ah, yes, well, I suppose that's part of his charm, isn't it?" she said, looking up from her computer.

"I'm only concerned," Maura added. "He's really quite notorious, Cassandra – you should be careful."

Ruth nodded and went back to digging in the bowels of the computer network. "Of course I will," she said. She'd be ever so careful as she fell out of the whore tree and banged Harry Pearce on every branch on the way down. She tried to hold back a smile, but not too much. She'd gotten settled in that morning and went straight to work, pausing only long enough really to read a coded email from her boss that had made her giggle at the sheer amount of effusive prose and praise of the 'lovely time' that they'd shared the evening before. Who knew that Harry Pearce could get so positively lurid and almost pornographic in his detailing?

He'd been setting up a lover's tryst in her quarters at ten pm. She couldn't even fathom how she would wait that long to see him. Not when they'd been loath to part that morning, trying to find any excuse possible to stay in bed with each other. But half past eight they had finally parted – he had been on his way to the Grid and she had been in a car on the way to Buckingham Palace. The idea of a lover's tryst now that they were actually lovers was thrilling, exciting, overwhelming.

"Harry is a good man," Ruth said quietly as she continued analyzing the code.

"A good man that would likely throw you aside for someone younger and prettier in a heartbeat, just like every man," Maura scoffed.

Ruth felt the first pangs of gnawing, painful doubt in her belly. "Ah, yes," she sighed. "Men are such complete bastards, aren't they?"

She continued to work till well past nine, only realizing what time it was when Harry appeared in the common room, sitting down opposite her chaise with his hands clasped together. "I take it that your first day has been uneventful," he said, startling her – making her jerk upright and lose her grip on the laptop. He lunged and caught it before it could hit the ground.

He drew back up and smiled, handing the computer to her. "You look lovely tonight, Cassandra."

Ruth hid a smile and said, "You're early –"

"Not at all," he replied. "You've just lost track of the time, my darling." He twined their fingers together and said, "Mayhaps we should adjourn to your quarters." He was speaking the words for the benefits of the other couple of people in the common room, but his eyes were speaking directly to her, promising so many, many things.

"Definitely," Ruth agreed. They strolled leisurely down the corridor, till she stopped at a door whose lock only opened with the key she possessed. She smiled and led him inside, flipping the lights on. "God, Harry, it's like being in a house full of insufferable, smug twats. Everyone seems to have an opinion on my sleeping with you –"

"You wouldn't want to be in the office today. They're having doubts about our professional behavior after the photos of us in the paper this morning." He paused and smirked. "Insufferable, smug twats, the lot of them." He leaned in and gave her a kiss. "Have you found anything?"

She nodded and tucked her hair back with a shy smile. "Um, yes – the nature of the distribution of the schedule seems to be constant, so I'm not entirely certain that we're dealing with a human saboteur. So I'm neck deep in code, trying to see if there's some piece of code that's set to the wrong parameters. It's going to take a while. I don't know how long. And I could be completely off-base with my suspicions, but it's good to explore all avenues, correct?"

He was watching her intently, and he nodded when she'd finished speaking and fell silent. "I'm sorry, could you – could you repeat that in plain English?"

Ruth laughed and gave him a kiss. "Code bad, me good. Take long time," she deadpanned.

"Oh, all right then," Harry replied, smiling. "You look lovely –"

"And you look tired," she said.

"There was an incident today and I almost didn't make it here. But I'm glad I am here now."

She set the laptop aside and took his hand, guiding him across the huge room to the bed that took up entirely too little space. "Sit down and relax a moment," she advised.

"If I get comfortable, I won't want to leave," he pointed out with a wan smile.

"Well, that doesn't bother me at all," Ruth said, pushing him to sit on the edge of the bed. "Besides, if you leave too quickly, everyone will assume that we've had a lover's tiff."

His eyes twinkled mischievously and a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. "Well, now, we wouldn't want anyone to believe that for a moment, would we?"

She crawled up onto the bed behind him and began to rub his shoulders. He was tense – far more tense than she thought should be allowed. And if she were to prove her value to him as both an asset and a lover, he wouldn't cast her aside, would he?

He groaned softly, relaxing into her hands. "I thoroughly enjoyed myself last night," she murmured. "Thank you."

"I apologize if my behavior –"

"Harry, you were a perfect gentleman, even when you were tripping over your pants around your ankles," she teased. "I mean it. I enjoyed myself very, very much." She exhaled, wishing she didn't feel so strongly, so viscerally toward him. It had been since day one, hadn't it? That she'd lusted after him, guiltily thinking of him as she'd pleasured herself. Well, her imagination was nowhere near reality.

Her hands stilled on his shoulders and he reached up to cover the left with his hand. "I suppose you might think that I've doctored all of this as an excuse to get you into bed –"

"No, I don't believe you to be quite that cunning," she chuckled. "But I can appreciate that a spymaster like yourself might have indecent thoughts about setting someone up just to get them into your bed." She kissed his temple and whispered, "You only ever had to ask."

He stopped breathing for a moment before the process began again. "I want to continue where we left off this morning, but is that too forward of me – to assume –"

"It's not too forward," she replied quickly, shrugging off her jacket and tossing it off the side of the bed, not caring at all where it fell. "Not at all."

Last night and in the early morning hours, he had been the one to initiate their shenanigans, but this time, she came around the front of him, straddling his lap. There was a dazed smile on her lips as she leaned in and kissed him. After only a few moments, she deepened the kiss, showing him that she meant to follow her words up with action.

Last night had been about release. The early dawn had been about pleasure. This was something far different – this was soul-seeking, navel-gazing, searching for each other in the darkest recesses of themselves. Harry could be incredibly tender and loving – and she responded in kind, her emotions rising to a fever pitch. Anyone looking in would have seen two consenting adults having incredibly torrid sex – but to Ruth, it was so much more than that. He held her heart in his hands and if he squeezed too hard, she would break entirely.

In the aftermath, they were both decimated and had no words to share. He merely rested his head on her chest, listening to her heart beating. She toyed with his hair, not wanting to move or give him up, though she knew eventually, she must.

The words hung in the air between them, but neither had spoken them, so they remained elusive. Three small words, so monumental. But who needed to speak them when they were felt so keenly without the words?

In the early dawn, Harry rose and got ready to leave, taking his time getting dressed. Ruth watched him in the dim light from the loo and sighed, wishing he could stay.

"Tonight," he promised, buttoning his shirtcuffs and coming over to give her a kiss. "Ten again?"

She nodded and returned the kiss, only stopping when he pulled away with a groan of frustration. "Harry, is this – is this going to be okay? Us?" she asked worriedly.

He paused, an almost imperceptible blip in his routine where he looked worried for a split second before he covered it up. "Why wouldn't it be?" he inquired. "We're both adults and it's been brewing."

"Until yesterday, I was with someone," she pointed out.

"Yes, and now you're with me," he said. "And I understand better than anyone about the pressures of our work." Harry sighed. "I have to go – I have a briefing with the PM in an hour and I still need to change my shirt."

She came out from under the covers – completely starkers – and gave him a lingering kiss. "Have a good day," she murmured, letting him leave without a fuss.

* * *

He arrived in time to clear security before she realized he was actually late. 10:01. It was going to haunt his dreams, being late. Compulsive adherence to punctuality had been hammered into him, and it was driving him mad, that little minute.

She was in the common room, tucked up on a chaise lounge with her laptop, hair up in a messy bun and an adorable expression of intense concentration on her face. The same look of intense concentration that had been focused entirely on him only that morning. She was arrestingly beautiful and he still couldn't believe that she'd gone along with him.

"I take it that your first day has been uneventful," he said, startling her – making her jerk upright and lose her grip on the laptop. He lunged and caught it before it could hit the ground.

He drew back up and smiled, handing the computer to her. "You look lovely tonight, Cassandra."

Ruth hid a smile and said, "You're early –"

"Not at all," he replied. "You've just lost track of the time, my darling." He twined their fingers together and said, "Mayhaps we should adjourn to your quarters."

"Definitely," Ruth agreed. They strolled leisurely down the corridor, till she stopped at a door whose lock only opened with the key she possessed. She smiled and led him inside, flipping the lights on. "God, Harry, it's like being in a house full of insufferable, smug twats. Everyone seems to have an opinion on my sleeping with you –"

This wasn't the only place where that had occurred. Tom had been incredibly vocal when he'd seen the photos in the newspaper, but had shut up when Harry told him that nothing had changed between them. He must have been convincing: a better liar than he gave himself credit for.

"You wouldn't want to be in the office today. They're having doubts about our professional behavior after the photos of us in the paper this morning." He paused and smirked. "Insufferable, smug twats, the lot of them." He leaned in and gave her a kiss. "Have you found anything?"

She nodded and tucked her hair back with a shy smile. "Um, yes – the nature of the distribution of the schedule seems to be constant, so I'm not entirely certain that we're dealing with a human saboteur. So I'm neck deep in code, trying to see if there's some piece of code that's set to the wrong parameters. It's going to take a while. I don't know how long. And I could be completely off-base with my suspicions, but it's good to explore all avenues, correct?"

He zoned out somewhere in the middle of that, caught between weariness from the day and the comfort of just listening to the sound of her voice. He realized suddenly that she wanted a response from him, and he said, "I'm sorry, could you – could you repeat that in plain English?"

Ruth laughed and gave him a kiss. "Code bad, me good. Take long time."

"Oh, all right then," Harry replied, smiling. "You look lovely –" She had lost some of the harshness that she carried around the office, replacing it with a complacent, indolent, soft gentleness.

"And you look tired," she said.

"There was an incident today and I almost didn't make it here." He wanted to tell her about it – all about it – but he couldn't burden her with the knowledge, or ensure that she would not be in danger if she'd heard about it at all. "But I'm glad I am here now."

She set the laptop aside and took his hand, guiding him across the huge room to the bed that took up entirely too little space. "Sit down and relax a moment," she advised.

"If I get comfortable, I won't want to leave," he pointed out with a wan smile.

"Well, that doesn't bother me at all," Ruth said, pushing him to sit on the edge of the bed. "Besides, if you leave too quickly, everyone will assume that we've had a lover's tiff."

His eyes twinkled mischievously and a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. "Well, now, we wouldn't want anyone to believe that for a moment, would we?" If they had a lover's tiff, it would probably lead to the devastation of all of Britain, if not all Europe. She did distract him so –

She sensed his tension and got behind him on the bed, gently massaging his shoulders. He groaned softly, relaxing into her hands. "I thoroughly enjoyed myself last night," she murmured. "Thank you."

He felt the need to apologize for mauling her like an animal in heat. It hadn't been the way he'd wanted to love her, but it had been intensely satisfying to sink into her against the door like a man possessed. He could only hope that she would forgive him… "I apologize if my behavior –"

"Harry, you were a perfect gentleman, even when you were tripping over your pants around your ankles," she teased. "I mean it. I enjoyed myself very, very much."

Her hands stilled on his shoulders and he reached up to cover the left with his hand. "I suppose you might think that I've doctored all of this as an excuse to get you into bed –" The operation was imperative to national security and he trusted her implicitly, despite her previous betrayal. The part where he had been unable to resist her simple charm for another moment was just the icing on the cake. His heart was beating desperately, frightened of her answer. This was not a game, not part of their legend, their playacting. This was real in a way nothing else could be. It was raw and fresh and he wanted nothing more than for her to understand that it wasn't a quick shag here and there that would disappear when the operation was complete.

"No, I don't believe you to be quite that cunning," she chuckled. "But I can appreciate that a spymaster like yourself might have indecent thoughts about setting someone up just to get them into your bed." She kissed his temple and whispered, "You only ever had to ask."

He stopped breathing for a moment before the process began again. So she had wanted him, too? It was a shining jewel of hope in a dismal sea, the knowledge of her desires. "I want to continue where we left off this morning, but is that too forward of me – to assume –"

"It's not too forward," she replied quickly, shrugging off her jacket and tossing it off the side of the bed. "Not at all."

They had left it with her coming off of an orgasmic high because Harry had been too eager to please her. The taste of her had lingered on his lips for hours and reminded him of all the beautiful misdeeds they'd accomplished even as he'd denied Tom's accusations of impropriety. If it was love, could it be improper? Harry had wondered. Lust, yes, but love? Never. And he loved Ruth, loved her with all of his heart.

He'd taken all of the first steps last night, encouraging her to give herself up to the simple, bumbling love that he felt, but this time, she slipped around him and settled onto his lap with a smile. Their kisses were gentle, heated, full of drugged desire and intensity that bespoke of true affection, not just a simple shag. No, they had history and friendship on their side, a strong foundation –

They took their time, exploring, touching, feeling everything that the other could offer. He struggled to keep anything back from her, trying not to overwhelm her with the magnitude of his affection. She wasn't ready for that – might never be. So he kept to himself his words of devotion, the truth that he'd been struggling with for so long. And he just held her, leg and arm draped over her protectively as he rested on his belly, head on her chest, listening to her heartbeat.

He'd missed human contact for so long. That it was with his Ruth made it even more alluring to stay in bed forever and give up everything outside the proximity of her touch.

In the early dawn, Harry rose and got ready to leave, taking his time getting dressed. He stared at her in the low light, loving the way the sheets hugged her body, the way that sleepiness softened her face. Ruth watched him in the dim light from the loo and sighed, and he knew she wished he could stay as much as he did.

"Tonight," he promised, buttoning his shirtcuffs and coming over to give her a kiss. "Ten again?"

She nodded and returned the kiss, only stopping when he pulled away with a groan of frustration as he stirred to life again. "Harry, is this – is this going to be okay? Us?" she asked. Her tone was worried – not anxious, not panicked, just concerned.

He paused, an almost imperceptible blip in his routine. Was she going to suggest that this was a bad idea? That they should stop what they had begun in favor of the easy way out? God, he hoped not. He'd seen how good they were, and now that he knew, he'd never be able to go back the way things were before. "Why wouldn't it be?" he inquired. "We're both adults and it's been brewing."

"Until yesterday, I was with someone," she pointed out.

And a right prick he was, too, tossing her aside for missing a date. "Yes, and now you're with me," he said. "And I understand better than anyone about the pressures of our work." Harry sighed. "I have to go – I have a briefing with the PM in an hour and I still need to change my shirt."

She came out from under the covers – completely starkers – and gave him a lingering kiss. "Have a good day," she murmured, letting him leave without a fuss.

Dear god, he could wake up like that the rest of his life and be the happiest man on earth, Harry mused. Now that they had crossed that fine line in the sand, he had no desire to be anything but happy – with his Ruth.

END PART SIX


	7. Chapter 7

Author's note: Our usual money service people have been off-duty at work this week, so we've had the crew chief picking up the deposits and I'll be damned if he doesn't look like the American version of Peter Firth. There have been a couple moments of awkward flirting, so life imitates art, eh? ;) Also, thank you all for your kind words on this story – I'm pumping it out as quickly and neatly as I can around my hectic schedule at my day job and my side business, with many more chapters winding their way in my brain.

* * *

Seven:  
First Anniversary

Ruth awoke to the feeling of Harry's fingertips tracing little circles on her spine, and she smiled, snuggling closer. "Mmm, good morning," she slurred sleepily. "How are you not knackered after last night?"

Harry laughed and said, "I only napped, really."

She sighed and fiddled with the hair on his chest, tugging on a couple of strands and making him wince. "You should treat yourself better, Harry," she sighed. "I know it's difficult with our jobs and everything, but you should at least try to sleep." It was a sticking point of contention in the otherwise placid pond of their relationship. She wanted him to relax and he wanted to be awake at all hours in case of an emergency. One of these days, it would lead to disaster.

"Yes, ma'am," he said, mock saluting. She frowned and poked him in the ribs. "I know, Ruth," he amended with a sigh. She didn't know what he was thinking at that point, nor did she really care: she would continue to fight the wee battles that would affect her happiness with him. She wanted him to be around for a long time yet – it was positively the best method for torture.

Harry's demeanor changed a little, softening, less prickly. "Do you know what today is?" he asked.

She sighed happily. "Saturday, and I can expect a bit of a lie-in till you bugger off to take a meeting with the Home Secretary," she murmured.

"Well, yes, but I meant more specifically than that."

She paused, racking her sleep-addled brain. "I… don't know. Don't tell me I've forgotten something –"

"It's our anniversary," he said softly. "The anniversary of the first time we… uh… were indiscreet."

She stifled a giggle. "Really, Harry, it's all right to say since we began shagging. I won't be offended if you're crass now and again." She kissed his chest and smiled up at him. "Then it's been a good year – I haven't lost you, despite numerous tries on your part to get someone to kill you, and we're still shagging on the sly on the regular." And they were – they met up as often as they could, many times disguised and using legends, and shagged themselves silly. It was a wonderful relationship, and they'd so far been able to hide it from everyone. Though, lately, Harry had been a little too happy for his own good. "I suppose you've bought me something horribly torrid and tawdry to wear at great expense of your wallet," she teased. "Something that I can't wear in public –"

"Uh… actually, no."

"Roses?"

"No."

"Chocolates?"

He sighed in what sounded like annoyance. "Ruth, I'm in love with you. I'd like to think this could be approached with slightly more gravitas –"

She sighed and smacked his chest, leaving a red, inflamed handprint. "God, you're such – ugh."

"What was that for?" he asked, wounded.

"I'm mad at you."

"That's no reason to hit me –"

"How can you say you're in love with me like that, so calmly and casually – but you've never once told me that you love me?" she asked, feeling very small again. "You're so quick to say that you're in love, but – "

"You know how I feel," he sighed.

"God, Harry, that's not the point! I'm in love with you, too, and every time I go to say that I love you, you shut me up like it's some secret and you don't want to hear it," she accused. "And you won't say it, either –"

"Because they're just words," he snapped. "Words that have no bearing on anything, and you're quibbling for the sake of spoiling for a fight." Well, that was lovely – now they were meant to fight on such a lovely day. Bugger it.

She sighed and decided to apologize. He probably didn't even understand himself why he did it. Men were so obtuse and thick-witted. Harry, especially, when he set his mind to being an obstinate old bugger. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snark," Ruth said in a suitably apologetic tone. One day, maybe he'd understand the distinction, but until then, he was just to be regarded as stupid.

"I don't like that you feel the need to question my love in degrees," he said in little more than a whisper. "But I'm sorry for inciting a row."

They continued to lie together quietly, hoping they wouldn't get red flashed. Their last three Saturdays had been cut short by work and she'd resented the hell out of it – and she knew he did, too.

She was just about to go back to sleep when he said, "I did get you something."

"Mmm?" she moaned, rousing herself out of drowsiness again.

"Let me go get it." He got up and she missed his warmth in her bed, missed the feel of his skin on hers – but, oh, did she have a nice view of his naked arse and thighs as he crossed the bedroom to his discarded briefcase. He came back with two files and got back in bed, covering up again because of the light chill in the air.

"Oh, you naughty boy – bringing files home from work," she scolded.

He smiled a little lop-sided smile that he only used when they were together. Her insides melted and she wanted nothing more than to kiss him, fondle him, love him until they were breathless and shaking with release. They were so good together.

He passed one over. Her eyes widened a little as she recognized her personnel file. "Oh," she said. "This is –"

"Open it," he said gently. "And I'll open mine."

She opened the file and gasped to see the first thing on top were a bunch of pension forms. "Oh." Ruth didn't even bother to hide her disappointment. He'd gotten her a permanent pension. Goody. Because that's what you got your bit of fluff for your anniversary.

He shifted nervously in the bed. "Ruth – let me explain."

"No, it's all right," she sighed. "You clearly don't feel the same way about us being together that I do, or –"

"I want you to be the beneficiary of my pension," he said, his voice sharp. "So much has happened in the last year and I can't bear the thought of you not being taken care of if something were to happen to me. So don't argue and just sign your copy of the paperwork. I've already signed mine."

"So romantic," she said sarcastically, signing the paper with a flourish. She tried not to let him see how disappointed she was – no flowers, no chocolates, no overly trite expressions of love. They were just… them, weren't they?

She flipped a little further in the file, curious to see her last review. "Hey, wait," she said. "What's this?"

Harry said, non-plussed, "The permission to marry form. I need you to sign that, too. That way, the Service has to not disavow one or both of us when we eventually retire, and you can be actually entitled to that pension."

She stared at him, her jaw dropping in shock. "Harry –"

"We can do it secretly and no one will be the wiser, aside from HR," he said. "These are our lockaway permanent files, Ruth, not the ones they trot out for the public. No one will know but the archivists."

"You're ordering me to marry you?"

"Not… ordering." He paused. "Not ordering as such."

"All right, then – tell me why I should marry you. Since I should like to know what I'm signing up for before I agree." She'd already decided long before that if he asked her to marry him, she would say yes… but he hadn't asked, so she would take him for a bit of a ride first.

"You make it sound so callous, like a business transaction," he protested, wounded.

She smirked and said, "Throw in a good shag thrice a week and a never ending supply of chocolate biscuits and I might just say yes on principle."

He exhaled and started looking upset. "I just – Ruth, it's not funny."

She leaned against him and sighed. "I know, dear heart."

"I would like you to be protected," Harry said very quietly. "I want to know that I've done everything in my power to make you content. I want you to be happy. I admit that I'm very selfish because when you're happy, so am I. I want to grow older with you and I want you to be the last thing I see before I die – because I am in love with you, Ruth. Please, will you let me have all of that? Will you marry me?"

She gave him a sweet, gentle kiss. "Of course, Harry," she whispered.

"Oh, good – I booked the registry office at eleven," he said sheepishly.

Her jaw dropped. "What?"

"Why wait?" he said. He lowered his voice and said conspiratorially, "I'm a bit impetuous when I want something badly."

"Do you even have rings?"

"Oh, yes," he replied with a smile. "Now, we can't wear them in public – but we do have them."

She gave him a kiss. "You're mad as a hatter, but god, do I adore you, Harry Pearce."

"Did I tell you?"

"No, what –"

"I'm going to be Sir Harry Pearce."

Her eyebrows leapt into her hairline. "Oh my goodness, Harry, that's grand!"

"One more reason you should marry me," he said with a cheeky grin. "I'll have a title."

"I don't care about titles," Ruth sighed. "I only need you." She twined their fingers together and kissed his hand. "I love you, Harry Pearce."

He kissed her hand in reply, but still didn't say 'I love you'. But they were getting married today, so what did it matter? She knew how he felt, now. The words were superfluous.

* * *

They did the vows and the exchange of rings with much gravity – after all, this was not Harry's first marriage and he knew what was expected of him. Ruth, however, kept looking around nervously like she'd been found out at stealing something lovely. They each took a turn signing the marriage certificate and requested three copies – two to be placed in their private files, and one for Harry. Ruth would keep the original, he had decided.

A wedding, a piece of paper, changed nothing between them. It would all be the same as it had been – sneaking about between one another's homes, stealthily spending the night making love and teasing each other. But now, if something happened to him, she could benefit.

As soon as they were in the car, she pulled off her ring and put it on the long chain that he'd given her. The chain dipped low past her breasts and rested against her ribs – and had cost a bloody fortune. But Harry could never deny her. His ring would stay in the chest of treasures in his bedside table in good company with Catherine's first lost baby tooth, Graham's Lego, his mother's engagement ring, and a photograph of Ruth taken at the holiday party a few weeks past. At least until such a time as change warranted – or necessitated – the revelation of their marriage status.

He leaned over and gave her a gentle kiss. "Thank you," Harry said softly. "For humoring me."

She held back a cheeky smile and replied, "Well, I get to go to bed with a Knight of the Realm – and get catty with anyone who thinks to turn your head now. It's legitimate now – I'm yours, Harry Pearce, and you're stuck with me."

"There's no one else in the world I'd rather be… stuck… with," he said.

"What now?" she asked. "Lunch? A nice bottle of wine and some sandwiches while we cuddle and watch telly before your meeting?"

He started the car and drove, not thinking too hard on her trying to avoid the important bits. "What do you want?" he inquired.

"Sadly, crumpets and jam," she said wistfully. "And another delightful shag – with my new husband."

He preened a little. "Well, the wedding night will have to wait until I get through my meeting," he said. "But then you'll have me at your mercy all night long, Mrs. Pearce."

"People will wonder why I'm allowed to take liberties," she said after a pause. "At work, I mean. Why you always seek my opinion. Why I'm so valuable."

"Because you're my Ruth," he said simply. "If they don't like it, they can sod off."

"But it's not that simple, is it?"

Like hell it wasn't. If anyone challenged Ruth but him, he would take them down a few pegs. "Maybe, maybe not," he said. "I'm not certain anymore, am I? I'm emotionally compromised – completely stark raving madly in love with my amazing wife."

"Flattering me to avoid an argument is only going to work so many times," she said.

"I'd hope that we weren't actually going to squabble on our wedding day –"

"It's going to be awkward, isn't it? Thinking that we've managed to bind together two anniversaries," she said. "I'll always be sitting on the Grid, squirming in my chair because you make me go all gooey when you look at me like that."

He laughed and reached over to squeeze her hand. "I think they're the best anniversaries to bind," he merely said before going back to his attentive driving. "We deserve to be happy, Ruth – you and I. Don't over think it."

"I wish you didn't have your meeting," she sighed.

"Why, so you can ravage me?" he teased.

"No, so we can talk about things like housing arrangements and mortgages and pets and children," she murmured. "We really don't do too much talking, do we?"

He shook his head. "No, we don't." He kept interrupting her when she was about to drop some stupid little detail because he didn't want to know. Plausible deniability – if someone asked the question and he responded correctly, others would know that something was up. Also, the fewer details he knew if he was captured and tortured, the better. Part of him wanted to know everything about her, but the practical, studied agent inside held him back. "We should keep separate accounts, mortgages, and houses," he finally said. "The less people know, the better they will be for it."

"Malcolm will figure it out eventually," she sighed. "He's brilliant, he is."

"Smokescreening comes in handy sometimes," Harry said. "And a quiet word now and again. I've told him that I have great affection for you and that it's been on for quite some time. But not that we've gone and done anything about it."

He parked in the drive to hers, as he'd spent the night and he needed to freshen up before his meeting with the Home Secretary. He quite liked the little house she'd finally found with the huge stained glass window in the front door and the cozy, inviting atmosphere. But maybe it was so inviting because she was there: everything felt so much homier with Ruth around. Even the domestic things like doing the washing were so much better for her presence. Doing the washing meant long periods of time for canoodling and cuddling, which he loved more than anything else. Of course, the sex was amazing – fantastic, overwhelming, beautiful – but the intimacy of just being with someone doing the mundane everyday acts that kept the world turning was his favorite time. It made him think that sacrificing everything for Queen and Country wasn't so daunting as it had been a couple of years ago. He was fighting for them, now.

"You're very quiet," she murmured.

"Just thinking how lucky I am," he replied, flashing a hint of smile in her direction. "I'm not good at being… forthright. Today has been an anomaly."

"I know; me, too," she agreed. "But we've gone and got married, so there we go. We can't go back now. Everything starts today for us, and I'm glad of it." She smiled shyly his way, her blue eyes sparkling. "When we have a particularly horrid day, I can tell myself that I can just go round to my husband and he'll make it better."

His smile grew, knowing that she loved him just as much as he did her. And he loved hearing her refer to him as 'my husband'. He leaned over and gave her a kiss, tender and sweet, then increasingly heated. When they broke away, Harry whispered, "Maybe I can tell the Home Secretary to cancel the meeting because I'm having an indiscretion."

"It's not an indiscretion if you're married," she pointed out with a breathless laugh. "And we are."

"We are," he agreed.

END PART SEVEN


	8. Chapter 8

Eight:  
First Date

The last few weeks, they'd been towing the company line right and left. First the problem with the big oil conspiracy, then Juliet Shaw, and everything else inbetween. Harry had taken Juliet seriously, thinking that this might just be the time – now – to begin to open up in his relationship with his wife. She was always complaining that he was too closed, too stand-offish, that she could never tell if he was actually still in love with her or just going through the motions. She'd cited that he didn't even know what her favorite color was, but he'd proven her wrong: it was purple. He knew from the towels in her bathroom and the colors of the spines of her books – if it had a purple cover, she gave it special consideration. He'd given her an amethyst pendant and ring for her birthday, which she wore more often than any of her other jewelry now.

They met on the roof, as usual. He liked the way the air currents whipped around up there: it made him feel alive in a way that only that could. It was calm today, which belied the gravity of the situation spinning out of control around them. "Word from the cousins is that our bomb may have gone AWOL from Afghanistan two years ago," he said to begin the conversation. Work, work, work, it was always work – bombs and destruction were so much easier to talk about than feelings.

"I've got possible dealers down to a short list of three," she rejoined. She was the best and that's why he kept her on – that and the ability to spy on her incredible legs whenever he wanted. Of course, she'd picked up on that immediately and her skirts had become even longer. So he spent a lot of time staring at her bum instead.

"The destruction of central London doesn't come cheap." Each word was clipped and concise as they left his lips.

"I'm not naïve," she said, bringing his full attention to bear. When had he really said she ever was? Once, maybe, back when he'd tried to get her to accept Malcolm's security upgrade. Before they were together. So long ago as to have been forgotten.

"I didn't say you were."

"It's bad enough that the bombers are home-grown, but now they're going to blow us up with our own weapons."

"You're absolutely right." It was the truth; he wasn't just saying it to get on her good side so she would come around tonight to relieve some tension. "Would you like to have dinner one night?" They'd talked about it, the need to step out of the shadows once in a while and be together in public. Dinner had been on the short list of things they could do without being arrested for public indecency – though the idea of shagging on a park bench in the middle of the night had been right up there at the top of the list if they weren't worried about getting caught out.

She just stared at him. "I'm sorry?"

"Dinner," he repeated. Then he amended, "That is, if you'd like to, of course."

She looked surprised and a little suspicious. "That's quite a conversation shift," she pointed out dryly.

"Well, onto a rather happier topic than weapons of mass destruction," he said, hoping that she would see how difficult he found it to ask her to be in public with him. To be his wife, his right hand, in a way that was stronger and yet somehow more fragile than the way that they were now. "Or your naivety."

"I'm not naïve," she argued, but there was a smile on her lips.

"I booked a table. It's a place I think you'd like," he added, watching her carefully for signs that she was considering his offer.

"That's very presumptuous of you," she said. "I might've said no."

"Well, I'll go anyway. Like the Charlie Chaplin character waiting for the girl and making the bread rolls dance." He mimicked with his hands and she really did smile then, remembering the Sunday they'd lain on the couch at his because she'd felt ill with a migraine and they'd spent the day watching old movies. "What film was that?"

"Gold Rush," she reminded him. He could see that she recognized that he was making an effort.

"Ah, yes."

"You won't have to," she said assertively. "Wait, I mean. I'd love to have dinner. Together."

"That's good," Harry replied, feeling his heart lift straight out of his chest. He wanted to be able to take her out for normal things like shopping and dinner, rather than just skulk around their houses. He wanted to know more about his lovely enigma. He wanted so many things that he didn't know how to make happen – for both of them.

* * *

They met on the roof, away from the prying eyes and ears on the Grid. They'd had a tiff over the phone last night about something inconsequential – something to do with who hadn't cleaned up Scarlett's accident and why are they even bothering with each other's pets if they can't communicate properly – so they had brought their frustrations to work since they hadn't very well vented them the night before. That mixed with a thermobaric bomb moving about kind of spelled BAD THINGS in capital letters with an underscored flourish, and they'd been shuffling blindly around each other all day till he'd passed her on the Grid and said, "Meet me up top in ten minutes."

So here they were, looking out over London, and she was wondering if she should be the one to apologize for missing Scarlett's mess or if the bomb took precedence. There were days when she wasn't sure which he would be more prickly about, to be honest.

"Word from the cousins is that our bomb may have gone AWOL from Afghanistan two years ago," he said. So it was work that was being terrible this time, not her. She could work with that.

"I've got possible dealers down to a short list of three," she rejoined. It had been incredibly difficult to collate that data – there were initially too many variables, too many places the deal could go tits-up. It had only been when she'd gone back and re-read between the lines on the classified American report that was more blackout than anything else that she'd found a clue. The cat and mouse had almost given her a migraine, but it was nice to know from the look on his face that he was pleased.

"The destruction of central London doesn't come cheap." Each word was clipped and concise as they left his lips.

"I'm not naïve," she said, bringing his full attention to bear. She knew that he thought she didn't know how the world worked behind closed doors; she might play dumb from time to time, but she knew when he went to the JIC meetings, all of the wheeling, dealing, and outright fighting left him in a state of anger over the bullshit in the world they were forced to endure. She knew how it worked and it made her even more frustrated than he was.

"I didn't say you were." He didn't have to say it: she knew he felt she was on certain matters.

"It's bad enough that the bombers are home-grown, but now they're going to blow us up with our own weapons." Her words were soft, frustrated, cold, and from the slump of his shoulders, her cover as the naïve, blind to the implications analyst was blown.

"You're absolutely right." A beat, a pause, imperceptible to anyone who didn't know him well. To his wife, it was altogether different – though she didn't know what would come out of his mouth next. "Would you like to have dinner one night?"

She just stared at him. "I'm sorry?" They had talked, once, about the need for a change of pace, a change of direction where their public façade was concerned. Too many people were questioning the little things, and they both felt like maybe a touch of transparency instead of opacity in their relationship might do them good. But to just spring it on her like this?

"Dinner," he repeated. Then he amended, "That is, if you'd like to, of course."

"That's quite a conversation shift," she pointed out. Maybe too much, maybe he had something in mind other than distraction from the inevitable work related horrors. She had no idea how he ticked, not really, even after nearly two years of marriage. He didn't let her in; she wasn't certain that she wanted in.

"Well, onto a rather happier topic than weapons of mass destruction," he said, "or your naivety." The end was said with a slight amusement.

"I'm not naïve," she argued, but there was a smile on her lips.

"I booked a table. It's a place I think you'd like," he added. He was watching her for a reaction, and she kept her face studied and blank.

"That's very presumptuous of you," she said. "I might've said no." Of course, she wouldn't. She couldn't resist him; not even when he was blustering about dog poop in the library.

"Well, I'll go anyway. Like the Charlie Chaplin character waiting for the girl and making the bread rolls dance." He mimicked with his hands and she really did smile then. She smiled because he cared enough to remember the day she'd taken ill and he'd held a bowl for her as she was sick and held her when she couldn't bear to move about. They'd watched old movies – well, he had. She'd been too ill to do much but cuddle up and rest her eyes. But she'd known all of the movies and he hadn't. It had been a lovely day, despite her headache. "What film was that?"

"Gold Rush," she reminded him.

"Ah, yes."

"You won't have to," she said assertively. "Wait, I mean. I'd love to have dinner. Together."

"That's good," Harry replied. He didn't make a move to touch her or do anything overtly challenging, but it was enough – he'd taken a huge leap and asked her out on a date. In public. She didn't need much more to know that he was making an effort – and that he loved her.

She rested her hand on top of his for a moment, squeezing gently, then she walked away back to the Grid and the lingering hell they found themselves in.

* * *

Harry couldn't keep his eyes off of her – and she couldn't stop staring at him, too. Ruth was still a little skittish about being in public with him on CCTV cameras, and he supposed it was a legitimate concern, what with their jobs and being in the middle of an operation. But the way she'd settled in at the table and decided immediately what she'd wanted to eat (without a moment's hesitation) had been an indicator of good things.

He ordered the wine and had already decided that if she refused dessert, he would just have to take her home for custard and biscuits – their favorite late night snack. She liked to smear custard down his chest and lick it off, looking devilishly innocent the whole while.

It had been decided in the car on the way over that work would absolutely not be a topic of conversation, so it felt like a first date rather than anything else. A first date with the hope of sex at the end, seeing as how they were definitely going back to his; especially after they had moved on to the second bottle of wine.

They'd both opened up, sharing little things over the course of the meal. He loved moonlit walks, she loved the smell of old books. He hated Scottish food, she hated people slurping their soup. They both enjoyed traveling, which had led to a lively discussion of where their first trip together should be.

"Paris," he suggested. There was a beautiful little hotel that he'd stayed at -

"New York," she argued with a chuckle.

"Paris," Harry said more firmly, his voice raising.

"Where's your sense of Atlanticism?" she challenged.

"Where's your sense of romance?" he rejoined.

She looked away and he was suddenly afraid that he'd pushed too hard, too fast. That putting her on the spot would lead to her dismissal of the whole thing. He wanted to take her anywhere she wished to go – anywhere. If that was, god forbid, New York… he would just have to suck it up and take one for the team. At least the Italian was good there.

"I often dream about a big trip," he said, letting her in on one of his greatest desires for them. "The Grand Tour – all the great capitals of Europe: Paris, Madrid, Rome, Berlin." Of course, he'd been to all of them during his time with the Service, but it would be different with her. No work, only pleasure to be had – and he'd never thought about it until he'd fallen in love with her. Now it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to want to show her the world and all of its beauty. Maybe he was the naïve one in a way. "Visiting the museums, walking in the streets, sitting in cafes. "

"Do some people watching without a backup team and a surveillance van?" she said hopefully, looking eager as she said it.

He laughed lightly, and he said, "That would be something."

Of course, in his dreams, they would spend their nights walking in the moonlight, hand in hand, then they would make love till the sun came up. But the idea of saying that aloud soured his stomach a bit – however much the wine was spurring him on. She should already understand that romantic notions of lovemaking usually accompanied such trips; especially when they were meant to be seductive getaways with your lover.

"Of course, it's not a trip to do alone," he said gently, ruefully.

Her next question was clearly meant to be coy, but it hit him hard, square in the chest with force. "Did you have a particular companion in mind?" she asked, as if she didn't know that he'd committed to be hers – and hers alone - forever. Did she just think that he would find another lover to amuse himself or what?

"Well, it would have to be somebody whose conversation you enjoyed, yet who understood the need sometimes for quiet," he said, beginning to list off all of his wife's personality traits that he found the most appealing. Two years in, and she still doubted her allure – and the fact that he was madly, hopelessly in love with her. "Somebody with a gentle sense of humor; principled but not foolish… or naïve," he said pointedly, holding her gaze, watching her face for infinitesimal reactions to his profession of devotion and desire.

She smiled a little, nodded. "Good qualities," she said, clearly understanding him.

"You don't often find them in one person," he said honestly, the full force of truth escaping in those words. He watched her fingers work at the napkin in front of her nervously, as if she wanted to say something, but he merely plied her with more wine. "White burgandy; thermobaric bombs," Harry murmured, meaning to underscore the beauty and the pain of all of it.

"Quite a species, aren't we?" Ruth said; her voice was tinged with bitter sarcasm.

They fell silent again, as if it were too much to continue with being open and honest. They declined dessert.

* * *

Ruth felt like the world was rushing around her and she was standing still, but that was probably the wine. Harry had definitely been heavy-handed at the restaurant, doling out more whenever her glass had reached anything resembling a third full. Not that she was complaining – it had been a rough day.

The small talk had been stilted and hardly important, but she felt so much closer to him now than she had that morning. She knew that he enjoyed jazz and French food, now, and that his favorite part of the morning was when she was there with him. That he wanted to take her on an amazing trip around Europe, and that he did love her, even if he didn't say it. Ever.

He helped her up the walk to his front door, smiling indulgently when she said, "Get the key in the lock, Harry, because I'm ready to go to bed."

She probably sounded a fright, but he loved her anyway. They made it inside, disabling the alarm, letting Scarlett out into the garden for her nightly trot and potty, then letting her back inside – all the while kissing and sharing little secrets that didn't matter. She told him the reason she didn't want to go back to Paris was that she'd been there before with someone who had broken her heart and she didn't want to chance it again, especially with Harry. He told her that he'd been in love with her since the first day of her secondment – when she'd stood up to him and didn't take no for an answer.

That had surprised her, but nothing else did. Not the way his hands caressed her, not the tender way he made love to her, not the way he implored that Paris would be better with someone she truly loved. They lay in the darkness, spooned together, content for a few moments just to hold each other and be loved.

* * *

She still had a bit of a headache around lunchtime when Malcolm suddenly appeared at her desk. "Well," he said, "you're a dark horse." She didn't know if his tone was admiration or disgust, but she was going to play ignorant though she well knew what he was talking about.

"Sorry?"

"No, no, no, I mean best of luck to you – I think it's wonderful," Malcolm whispered, sotto voce. "I suppose it was staring us in the face all along."

He had no idea, did he? Not at all. "Sorry, Malcolm, I've got no idea what you're talking about," she denied.

"You and Harry," he whispered pointedly.

So he knew about dinner – and if she found out his source, she might kill them. Her dinner with Harry was off-limits. Their relationship was off-limits. Her headache was suddenly a thousand times worse. "What?"

"It's pretty impossible to keep a secret in this place. Candlelit dinners for two, eh?" He looked excited for them, but for all she knew, it could be mockingly. This was it – why she had fought so hard to keep them under wraps to begin with. She couldn't stand being talked about; couldn't stand that she might be a reason for Harry's honor to be tarnished. When she started to stammer a denial of wrongdoing, he said, "No, no, no – good for you. I think you'd make a smashing couple."

And there it was: judgment passed. The idea that others would be judging them, too – fairly or poorly – made her stomach clench and her teeth hurt. "Malcolm, it was nothing – it was to do with work," she said. "Please don't say anything." The look on his face was enough to make her queasy. "Who else knows?"

With a sinking, seasick rolling, she knew it was everyone.

She retreated back into the hollow shell of herself and cut all ties to the idea of going out in public with Harry again. Not if it was going to be like this after. Everyone would judge her even more unfairly if they knew she'd just fallen into – okay, he had lifted her up – bed with him last night after their first date. Hell, they'd even talked about how they'd done everything out of order – sex, marriage, dating – and it was humorous. But now, it was like having egg on her face and being sent to the corner for breaking her favorite toy.

They would stay to the dark, the shadows, their status quo.

* * *

"The Americans want to talk to you about the bomb," Ruth said.

"They're not getting it back," Harry replied obstinately.

"Grosvenor Square is on a secure line."

She retreated, running away from him again. "Ruth –" Harry tried to get her attention, knowing that she was busy, but a stolen moment wouldn't harm the fate of the world. "Have you thought anymore about –"

She cut him off. "I can't."

"Can't what?"

"Have dinner again."

Harry's heart dropped into his feet, his stomach balled up in knots. Was she giving up on them? On the thought of them in the real world, not just… not just hiding away?

"People know. They're laughing about it," she said, and he knew she was upset, though she was fighting valiantly to hide it from him.

"Laughing?" he said in disbelief. She was hurting and all he wanted to do was chase down the source of her hurt and eradicate it. "What – why would they laugh?"

"I don't know," she said, almost in tears. "But it undermines you and that's not acceptable."

He didn't need her to fight his battles, but he did need to placate her, try to get her to come round again. "I sit in meetings listening to briefings that would chill the blood of any ordinary citizen," he said, attempting to trivialize anyone else's involvement in their relationship. "So, whilst of course deeply hurtful, somebody laughing at me will not give me sleepless nights."

"I can't, Harry," she repeated. "I can't be talked about like that. I just… I can't stand it."

He wanted to reach out, to comfort her, but the blinds were open and she'd drawn a line between them that he could not cross. It hurt, seeing her so anxious and upset about some twit's mockery.

"Sorry," she said, turning and all but running away, leaving him to contemplate a well-timed murder or two. It hurt, her rejection, but maybe she would come around –

* * *

She didn't come back around to his – nor was she at hers – until after Havensworth. They'd stared each other down in the corridor, shadows of the glories of their love, and both had bowed under the pressure.

Ruth just appeared in his bed after midnight, and had snuggled up against him. "I couldn't bear not having you anymore," she whispered.

"No more dates," he promised. "Just… don't leave me again."

"I needed to think. About us," she whispered. "About what I want – what we need."

"And you've… come to a conclusion, then?" he asked, voice trembling slightly, the fear that she would ask for a divorce coming to a fore.

"Mmhmm," she murmured.

"And… what is it?"

"That we work with a bunch of insufferable jackasses who need to fuck off and leave us alone," she sighed. "Because I love you and I want to be with you. As your wife. In public and private, Harry. But we need to go slowly – I'm still no good at being judged to be a fool."

He kissed her, deeply, soundly, and whispered, "I've given up on caring whether or not someone takes me as a fool – your opinion is the only one I care about now."

"My opinion is that my ring is quite lovely, and it will be nice to wear it as it's meant to be worn," she murmured. "But right now, we both need rest."

He slept better than he had in a week without her.

END PART EIGHT


	9. Chapter 9

Nine:  
First Goodbyes

She stood out on the dock, waiting for the ferry to be ready to take her off into the great unknown. Seventy hours ago, Ruth had watched a man jump in front of a Tube car. Today, she was dead to the world. She knew Harry would never forgive her what she'd done, but he would live to fight another day. And that was why she had done it – done everything.

He would be safe, protected.

That morning before Mik Maudsley had killed himself, she'd put on her wedding band, ready to walk onto the Grid and announce that she and Harry had been together a long time. But in the wake of everything, she'd put the ring back on its chain. Now, however, she wore it as a reminder of why she'd done it. Why she'd sacrificed everything for Harry – the simplest reason being love.

She'd implored Adam not to tell Harry where she was, but she knew that he would come for her anyway. Neither hell nor high water would keep Harry away.

So it was completely unsurprising when he walked toward her. Ruth shook her head and tried not to smile at how predictable it was of him. Charging in to save the day, though the day could not be saved. "I told Adam not to tell you," she called out over the lapping waves and the sound of the boat warming up.

"I told him I'd give him the sack if he didn't," he replied.

Ruth just stared at him, taking in his gloves, his overcoat, his distressed and rumpled appearance, trying to burn them into her memory forever. If this was the last time she would see him, she wanted to remember him with love, all the love that was within her heart. She wanted to remember the way his eyes warmed when they saw her, the way he held himself, the way he was.

He came closer, within arm's distance, and her resolute reasoning – faultless – began to falter. "I don't know what I'll do without you, Ruth," he said softly. "What are –" He stopped himself. "You take good care, yes?"

"Yes," she breathed, trying to smile so he wouldn't see the cracks around the edges of her soul. "And you." She had never been good at finality, especially when it came to the ones she loved so dearly. Harry was dearest to her heart and this was it: the end of them. She was legally dead, about to go into hiding, and all she wanted was to remind him of their wedding night, when they'd promised each other so much more than this. "Don't get shot."

"I won't," he promised.

"Oh, and, um, can you feed my cats?" she asked, knowing he would have done anyway – he'd come to love Fidget and Eva and would curl up on the sofa with one or both in his lap, purring affectionately. "Actually, take them to your house. You adopt them."

"Of course," he said, glancing down. He saw her hand, fidgeting, caught sight of her ring. He looked back up at her unquestioningly, with devotion and love in his eyes.

That made it all so much worse. She wanted to stay; she wished he'd just… left it be. It would have been so much easier to walk away.

Her heart splintered, shattering into a billion pieces, as she whispered, "Goodbye, Harry."

"Goodbye, Ruth," he replied, his voice straining with emotion. She was just about to turn away when he said, "There's something that I have to tell you. I should have told you years ago –"

The pressure in her chest was too much to bear. "Harry, please don't," she whispered.

"But if I don't tell you now, I never will," he protested.

The ferryman yelled, "COME ON!"

She knew that time was short – that she was in grave danger the longer she stayed. "I'm coming," she called back. But she wanted one more stolen, brilliant moment with her husband – the love of her life. "Please, don't say anything," Ruth implored. "Just leave it something that was never said. Something wonderful that was never said." She reached up and caressed his face, holding it in her hands for the last time. And then she kissed him, feeling everything so very acutely in those moments. She memorized the way he inhaled deeply through his nose, the smell of his cologne and something that was just Harry, the way his light morning stubble tickled her nose and chin, the way his lips felt against hers – undemanding and soft. She pulled away, then kissed him again, once, softly. She stared into his hazel eyes for a long moment, drinking in her last sight of him like an oasis in the desert. "Let me go, Harry," she breathed, kissing him for less than a second before she broke away.

She hurried onto the boat, steeling her nerves, her resolve. Don't let him see you're crying, she scolded herself. Don't let him see that you're desperate to stay.

As the boat headed away, she watched him for a long moment, then turned away and refused to look back. She would have more than enough time to lick her wounds, to try to learn to live without her husband's love. She would have a lifetime alone now, and she only hoped that she'd made the right choice.

* * *

He charged toward her, and she said, "I told Adam not to tell you –"

Oh, how Harry wanted to take her into his embrace, hold her, tell her everything would be all right again. But it wouldn't be anything but a lie for both of them, would it? She'd made a choice, set this into motion, given him everything but the ability to keep her love close. His heart was breaking, but he held back, trying to savor their few moments left.

"I told him I'd give him the sack if he didn't," he said. To be honest, Adam had understood his desperation to see her; Harry had implored that he needed to see his wife before she disappeared forever. Adam had questioned him, but Harry blew it off, merely saying that they'd been married for some time and he would explain later – if he only put him out of his misery and told him where to find her.

He felt so helpless, like he would drown without her. They were so close, now, and she was being ripped away so unfairly, so cruelly. "I don't know what I'll do without you, Ruth," he said softly. "What are –" He stopped himself, knowing that if she told him her plans, she would put them both at terrible risk. Mace's influence still carried weight and even this meeting was dangerous. But he had to know that she was all right, that she would be all right - "You take good care, yes?" It was stilted, clinical, but she needed to know that he cared. So much.

"Yes," she breathed, trying to smile. "And you." She looked as though she was struggling with this, with letting go. God, so was he - "Don't get shot."

"I won't," he promised.

"Oh, and, um, can you feed my cats?" she asked. Of course he would – it went without asking. They were like their furry children. They'd talked, recently – very recently, since Havensworth and their week's separation – about trying for a baby, but now it seemed a moot point. She was leaving and they would likely never see one another again. "Actually, take them to your house. You adopt them."

"Of course," he said, glancing down. He saw her hand, fidgeting, caught sight of her ring. He looked back up at her unquestioningly, with devotion and love in his eyes. That wasn't part of her legend; that was the last vestige of them. He wanted to take off his gloves, to show her that he'd donned his ring, too – a silent promise that they were forever, no matter what else came between them – but it was too much.

She whispered, "Goodbye, Harry." Her conflict and heart were painted across her face in swaths of emotion, but she couldn't have hidden that from him if she'd tried. And his face must have looked similar. God, how he loved her, wanted her – it was like having all of the air stolen from his lungs, this not being able to have her now.

"Goodbye, Ruth," he replied, his voice straining with emotion. She was just about to turn away when he said, "There's something that I have to tell you. I should have told you years ago –" He'd always felt so guilty about not telling her he loved her. But he didn't want to give that last bit of control away to her. He needed the buffer between their hearts, however small, so he had an illusion – a shred of an illusion – that he was not desperately lost and at her mercy. She needed to know, now – that control was gone. He was hopelessly, desperately in love with her and it felt like his heart was being ripped from his chest.

"Harry, please don't," she whispered.

"But if I don't tell you now, I never will," he protested.

The ferryman yelled, "COME ON!"

"Please, don't say anything," Ruth implored. "Just leave it something that was never said. Something wonderful that was never said." She reached up and caressed his face, holding it in her hands for the last time. And then she kissed him. She pulled away, then kissed him again, once, softly. She stared into his eyes. "Let me go, Harry," she breathed, kissing him for less than a second before she broke away.

He watched her leave, broken, shattered. Long after the ferry had gone, he broke down into a great, sobbing mess. Adam was waiting for him at the car, and wisely said nothing as Harry struggled to regain control of himself. He drove Harry around to Ruth's to collect the cats, then home.

Everything was so fresh, so raw. They'd been happy – really, truly happy. And now…

Now, his house was a hollow shell of a stolen memory without her.

He twisted the ring on his finger, praying that she would find a way to let him know that she was all right.

END PART NINE


	10. Chapter 10

Ten:  
First Year Apart

She awoke on her side, curled up in a little ball, the sunshine slanting across her face through the crack in the curtains. It had been a year today she'd left England, a year that seemed somehow longer than three hundred sixty-five days. Surely it had been twice as many.

"Lauren, Lauren, may we go swimming?" Nico asked, bursting into her room. "Dad said to ask you because he's going to work."

Ruth sat up and rubbed her face, putting on a smile for the boy. "Of course, Nico – let me get up and dressed and we'll go to the pier for lunch," she said.

Her life was simple, elegant, and completely broken. She'd traveled around Europe, doing the Grand Tour that she and Harry had talked about, but hers was out of necessity, changing passports and legends with every city that she'd visited.

She had stopped in Athens when the airlines prevented her from traveling due to her pregnancy. She had found out somewhere between Vienna and Rome, had welcomed the idea of having one piece of Harry left to hold onto. But by Athens, she was shuffling around and her belly was huge.

And she'd seen Adam and Ros on the street one day, irrationally running from them though she was disguised and they couldn't possibly have recognized her. She had to protect Harry, keep him safe. Mace's men were still after her, after all. She'd gathered her things – meager amount of them that she had – and booked a boat to Cyprus.

Everything had been good then – she found clerical work at a small hospital, did her job, went home to a tiny one-room flat overlooking the ocean. But it all went to hell in a handbasket in the span of a few hours.

She went into labor, toiled for nearly two days, but to no avail. Beautiful Johanna Rose was born with her umbilical cord wrapped around her neck, her skin blue – no amount of grief could bring her back. Ruth felt a sharp pang of pain in her heart whenever she thought of the tiny child that had looked so much like her dear love, and she still blamed herself.

George, one of the doctors at the hospital, had caught her filing her own paperwork three days after Johanna's birth, and had told her that she needed a change. He offered her a job as his son's live-in nanny, which she had taken eagerly. His house was large and afforded her space – and wasn't filled with the memories of anticipation of the birth of her child, like her flat had been.

She loved Nico, was happy to take care of him. Her job was blissfully simple, and she did it well. George knew that she was married and deeply in love with her husband. He didn't know the reasons she couldn't return to him, but he respected her commitment to Harry.

Ruth only wished that she could see Harry once more, so she could tell him about their daughter who almost was. Aside from that, she was content with her lot in life. She was at peace.

* * *

Harry closed his eyes, frowning. A year gone, and where was she? He'd clearly taught her too well, if even Malcolm couldn't find her. He wanted to go to her, to tell her that she was safe to come back to England, but after Athens, she'd just… vanished.

They'd gotten a hit on the CCTV at the airport and Malcolm had revealed it to him with much actual glee, showing him Ruth's beautiful face for the first time in forever. He'd tracked down the legend and passport she'd used, the place she was employed, her flat – but there had been no trace of her.

He thought he'd seen her on the street – the same black hair and heavy makeup, scarlet lips, and baggy, unfeminine clothes as had been on the airport footage – but this woman he'd seen had been heavy with child and had been all wrong to be his Ruth. He'd felt a pang of longing that she might could have been his Ruth if he'd squinted a little more, but had shaken it off. When they went to her flat the next morning, she was gone – it was empty.

His heart had sunk into his feet and he'd been forced to lean on Adam and Ros as they looked around the city for her. When no sign had been had, they gave up and went home, empty handed. And Harry had thrown himself back into work, desperate for a way to cover up how hurt he was.

Adam died, Zaf died, people came and went from the Grid. He stayed the same, angry, imperious, wanting his wife to come home and being furious with himself for not being able to find her.

He would give almost anything to find her. Malcolm and Tariq worked on it on the sly, trying their best to find her, but wherever she was, she was untouchable.

He only hoped that she was well.

END PART TEN


	11. Chapter 11

Eleven:  
First Blood

Running, running, always running. As soon as she'd hidden George and Nico away with a friend for their protection, she had taken her last passport and run again. They were safe, they had to be. She couldn't take them with her, not with the unpredictability of what she had to do. How they had found her after all of this time, she didn't know, but she'd had to vanish again.

She strode the streets of London, not shaking the feeling that she was being followed for a very long time. As soon as she knew she was alone, she ducked into a phone booth and called in. "Echo. Foxtrot. Lima. Lady Lazarus," she said in a voice devoid of any emotion at all.

She still had the keys to a safe house – the same set of keys she'd carried with her passports the entire time she'd been traveling, and she went there to wait. She was still wired from the adrenaline and the caffeine and the travel itself, and the anxiety of not knowing if her employer and his son were safe. The anxiety of knowing that Harry would be on his way soon…

She looked up when the door rattled, and smiled just a little. "Hello, Malcolm," she said softly.

He stared at her like he was seeing a ghost. Maybe she was just that: a ghost of Ruth future tense, where happiness might be attainable again. "I never thought I'd see you again," he said.

She nodded a little, smiled. "No, she agreed.

He made them a cup of tea, then they went out onto the patio. The inside of the safe house was bugged, but they'd never bothered with the patio. She remembered having helped Malcolm and Colin ages ago on this one, adjusting the angles of the speakers and the cameras to compensate for the odd wind patterns when the doors were open. It was quiet until she said, "I was happy, Malcolm. Life was…"

"Calm?" Malcolm supplied placidly.

"It's like one of those scary dreams when you're taken back to a time and a place you thought you'd left completely behind," she admitted, still overwhelmed with the idea of being flushed out of hiding like a fox.

"I'm so glad to see you again," he said warmly, fondly. They'd not been best of friends, but they had been as close as they could have been. She twisted her wedding band around her finger, sighing.

She wanted to talk about the fish she'd left out on the sideboard when she'd spirited George and Nico away, wanted to tell him about the life she'd made for herself, but all of her words fell flat and never left her lips. She was tired, numb, exhausted, and all she wanted to do was sleep.

"There's a car waiting – we'll take you straight back to the Grid," Malcolm said.

She smiled a little, the weariness dissipating a little at the thought of going home – and the Grid was home, in a way. "How is he, Malcolm?" Ruth asked. He didn't say anything, just took a breath. That was Malcolm speak for 'everything is shit'. "What's happened?"

"Harry's in great danger, Ruth."

By the time they reached Thames House, he'd filled her in on Harry's abduction. And some of the other things she'd missed – like deaths, new people, and the fact that her little Eva cat had died at some point. She remained passive, listening to the litany of details, but only really hearing that Harry was in the hands of a crazy person intent on killing him.

Everything on the Grid was how she had left it, and it was more than slightly disconcerting, knowing that the more things changed, the more they stayed the same. Harry's office, home to their most intimate hopes, wishes, and feelings, was empty – like her heart felt. She felt like everything had been drained away, leaving her exhausted and numb. It was a nightmare she couldn't shake.

"Ruth," a handsome man said, "I'm Lucas North. I'm sorry we have to meet under these circumstances." As if there ever could have been other circumstances – as if.

"Why was I attacked?" she demanded of him, as if he would be smart enough, cunning enough, to have the answer that was so elusive to her.

He ushered her into the meeting room with Jo and Ros, closing them off from the rest of the Grid. This was the part where he told Ruth that he had no idea what was going on, wasn't it? Without Harry, the team was falling apart at the seams.

"Hypothesis," Lucas said, "whoever has Harry went after Ruth as well. The south Asian appearance of her attackers would certainly suggest that."

Score one for the pretty boy, she felt like cheering sarcastically. She'd already deduced that as soon as Malcolm had filled her in. "Why?" she asked.

"They're holding him because they want some information," Jo said, looking as tired as Ruth had ever seen her. "The red herring was just to buy them time."

"Information that you and Harry share," Ros interrupted, speaking over Ruth.

So many, many things, Ruth thought. Many more than Ros would ever conceive of. Harry had vented his frustrations on her, had given her things to do that no one else had ever known about, had shared secrets with her that would chill the blood of anyone human. Too many things, jumbled together in a slew of tired, tangled memories. "I don't know what that could be," Ruth admitted. There were just too many things to remember, filed away in the back of her brain, disused.

"What did Harry ever share with you that was for your ears only?" Ros asked gently. Gentle wasn't a word Ruth had ever thought to use to describe Ros, but she'd softened the blow. "That no one else could ever know that would be worth all this effort."

That narrowed it down slightly; her mind whirled at a million miles an hour as she turned over scenario after scenario, report after report in her mind, dismissing them one by one, looking back and forth between Lucas, Jo, and Ros in turn, but not seeing them. And the only one left after her flicking dismissals was Baghdad.

Lucas was looking at her with concern. "Ruth?"

"Baghdad," she said uncertainly. "I think this might be about Baghdad."

"What happened in Baghdad?" Ros asked.

It seemed so wrong to be telling them, but if it would find Harry, if it would make things better – she would do anything. It wasn't a state secret, just the backroom wheeling and dealing she hated so very much. "Harry came across a clandestine operation there," she said reluctantly. The more people that knew what was going on, the greater the danger to the operation.

"What was it?" Ros prompted.

"To smuggle weapons grade uranium into the country and then discover it." The words were hollow, devoid of any kind of feeling. She'd long ago buried her feelings about this. "To vindicate the war."

"Harry was involved in that?" Lucas asked with disbelief.

Doubting the greatness of the man was a strike against Lucas – who clearly had no idea that she and Harry were married. Who had dismissed her as just another analyst. And now, she was going to prove him a fool. "Harry stopped it," she said.

"So, who else was involved?" he asked.

"Elements of the CIA, some cowboys from Six, and a free-lance chap from the Indian Intelligence Bureau. It was completely below the radar. When Harry discovered it, he went straight to the top and it was quickly stopped." Not without knocking a few heads together, but that was not a story to tell the children.

"But why now?" Jo asked. "What do they want from Harry now?"

It was devolving in her head faster than she could speak the words. Harry was in far more danger than they could ever know. "The uranium, I'd expect."

"The uranium actually got there?" Ros asked. "It was in Iraq already?"

Ruth shook her head slightly, remembering the tense phone calls and the total silence of Harry's fury. "The whole thing was a very close call. There were voices in States who wanted to green light it. But Harry won the argument and we got it out again." Adam Carter had been the operative to bring it home with him. Dear Adam, sweet Adam, long gone now. He had been such a help to her, such a good friend and a good man. "We brought it here."

Ros looked like she was connecting the dots, so Ruth let her. "And Harry knows where it is and he told you as backup."

Ruth didn't like the implication that he would just hand over something so important to a mere analyst, so she played hardball. "Harry was the only person other than the Americans who knew where it was, so, yes, he told me." Her voice was low, cold, calculating. She still didn't trust Ros, never really had done – not like Harry had.

"You carry on," Ros ordered. "I'm going to go see the Home Secretary."

Ruth was left at the table with Jo and Lucas, wondering if she was even safe with them, here on the Grid. What if they were being monitored? What if her movements in the country had been watched carefully by someone involved?

God, she just wanted to go home – but home didn't exist anymore.

* * *

Harry looked up as she was led into the room, restrained as he was, looking nervous and skittish as she had a right to be. But somewhat resigned, as if she'd guessed what was coming. She was forced into the chair facing him, so close and yet so far away, as if no more than a mirage or a dream.

"Friends, reunited," Mani said in a tone that betrayed slight amusement at the infliction of pain. "Were you two just friends back then? There was an obvious connection and everyone else out there was at it like rabbits. Adrenaline, I suppose." Ruth's cheek twitched slightly, but other than that, she didn't react – Harry commended her restraint. "You two, though: you know, it wouldn't surprise me if it was all quite chaste in a frightfully outdated Brief Encounter kind of way."

He held her gaze, trying to soothe her – but he was far more rattled than she was. Mani had brought her here with the intent to kill her; that much he'd already ascertained. And what happened between now and then was just a game. He would play them both, but he would not give in. "I wouldn't speculate about it too much – it's probably a bit beyond your vulgar little mind," Harry said in the tone that he saved for people who were so far gone, they needed a bit of patronizing.

"One – or both of you – knows where the uranium is," Mani said in that insufferably calm manner. "I will be back shortly to see which one of you breaks first." His smile was practically maniacal, but completely sedate, as if this was an everyday encounter to take glee in.

Harry just felt tired and sad that he'd dragged her back into this mess of his. She was so good at sorting things out, but this… was untenable. He'd long since been resigned to not finding her, but for Mani and his team of thugs to find her when he couldn't… god, it made him angry. It made him furious that he couldn't have brought her home and protected her from all of this.

They sat in silence, dead silence, no words being necessary between them.

* * *

She felt the knife slice against her ribcage, heard two shots, took a deep breath in case it was her last. The last few hours had been harrowing, surviving one small torture after another, refusing to give in to Mani's demands, meeting Harry's eyes for encouragement when she felt herself wavering, faltering.

The only thing she knew with certainty was that she'd hidden George and Nico away well. They'd thought to use them as leverage, and would have, had she not thought quickly.

She was dizzy as she watched Mani fall to the ground, dead. Then the tears came, slowly, then faster, harder, and the pain with them. Ros cut her restraints loose and checked her over, proclaiming the bloody wound to be nothing more than a rather large scratch. Her voice was soothing, gentle, but Ruth could barely hear her over her tears.

As soon as he was free from his bindings, Harry wrapped her up in his embrace. He whispered, "You were very brave, my love – so brave." He kissed her forehead, then her temple, then very gently brushed her tears away and kissed her on the lips. "You're home now, Ruth. You're home. And I'm never letting you out of my sight again. Not ever."

"Is that a promise?" she whispered, sniffling. How he could love her, even when she was a snotty, sniffling, tearful mess, she'd never understand.

"A vow," Harry murmured, his voice low and sweet as honey. "A vow to my lovely wife who has been away from me for far too long."

END PART ELEVEN


	12. Chapter 12

Twelve:  
First Night Back Together

Harry had gone back to the Grid, but not before he'd made sure that she was safely tucked away in his – their – house with the pets and Ros to watch over her. Ruth put her bag upstairs in the guest room, then came back down to find Ros making tea.

"I know about you and Harry," Ros said softly. "He told us when we went to find you in Athens."

Ruth exhaled and laughed ruefully. "Athens," she repeated weakly. "Athens was where everything changed, Ros. When I couldn't bear the lies and the running and the panic anymore. But I had to run once more, didn't I? I couldn't let Harry just find me – "

"We came to tell you the danger was past," Ros said, adding honey to her tea. "That it was time for you to come home. But then you were gone and away and… do you know how hard it hit Harry?"

"Of course it was hard on bloody Harry," Ruth said. "What about me, Ros? How difficult was it for me? Do you have any idea? Do you have any idea at all how hard it was for me to keep moving, keep hiding? Do you honestly think that I was happy? Ever? All I wanted – all I ever wanted – was to come home to my husband." Ruth placed her hand flat over her heart. "There were nights I couldn't sleep because I was terrified I'd wake up and he'd be there, in danger, because of me. Irrational, yes – but still." Her voice trailed off into nothing.

"You kept your wedding ring –"

"Of course," Ruth whispered. "It was all I had left to hold onto." The old familiar pain of losing Johanna welled up in her chest again, choking her with its intensity.

"Ruth?"

She gasped a sob and turned away, covering her face. "Don't – please don't –" Ruth begged. "Get out, go away, don't – don't talk to me anymore tonight. I can't."

"Ruth, you're hurting –"

"And you're not the person I need to talk to, so unless you can pull Harry out of your arse, just get out!" Ruth shouted, her grief, her pain of the last few days reaching a boiling point. She wouldn't do more than raise her voice, but it was enough – startling enough – that Ros retreated from the kitchen in silence.

Ruth shakily added a jigger of whiskey to her tea and ran upstairs, closing herself off in the guest room. It was cold. Impersonal. Full of her things that Harry had kept when he'd sold her house. The bed was small and covered plainly, but it all still felt too big. She felt very small, like a knot of tangled emotions, and she hated herself even more for having yelled at Ros.

It was late when she heard Harry's heavy tread on the stairs. He stopped outside her door and knocked gently. "Ruth," he called, voice muffled by the wood. "Are you awake?"

She got up and opened the door, facing him in her exhaustion and anguish – not wanting to know how he saw her. He gently cupped her face in his hands and whispered, "I thought today might have been a dream – that I'd come home and you wouldn't be here."

Ruth exhaled and leaned into his touch, taking strength from him. She had none left of her own – the reserves had dried up and now she had to rely on him. "I'm here," she whispered. "I would never walk away again. Not willingly."

He leaned in and kissed her forehead. "I love you," he said firmly. "I know the difference now. I love you and I am in love with you, Ruth Evershed." He smiled, the lines of his face lifting. "And now that you're home, we must celebrate –"

"I'm dead," she said. "Legally."

"Doesn't mean we can't sort it in time," he said.

"You mightn't want me here," she said very quietly. "After I've told you about… something." She paused, looking away, unable to meet his gaze. "Someone," Ruth amended.

"You had an affair?" Harry asked, jumping to the only conclusion she'd allowed him.

"God, no," she said, laughing. "No, I'd never. Harry, I love you – loving you was my curse, wasn't it?" She reached out to touch his arm, but he shrugged away. "Harry," she whispered, "please listen to me. I need you to… to forgive me. Because I can't forgive myself."

"My love," he said, "what -?"

"Her name was Johanna Rose," Ruth said, her voice shaking. "She was six pounds, seven ounces, and nineteen inches long. She looked so much like you, Harry. So beautiful."

He was very quiet for a long time, merely rubbing the top of his head in contemplation. "Where is she?" he asked, finally.

"The children's cemetery in Polis," Ruth whispered. "I'm sorry – I'm so sorry. It's my fault. The cord – it was wrapped round her neck and I killed her, Harry. It's all my fault." She had no more tears to shed, just raw pain that was forever etched in the worry lines on her face. "Please forgive me."

He pulled her into his arms, buried his face in her shoulder, shook with the force of his tears. Her arms came about him, holding him as tightly as she could as new, fresh tears erupted from her. It wasn't something that just happened, getting past this hell of grief, and now she'd inflicted it on him, too. She'd hurt him in ways she could no longer fathom – she'd been staring into the abyss for so long that everything had become distorted and she couldn't see the bottom.

He finally stopped crying and they just stood there in the dim light from the lamp, holding one another. Harry's voice was low and hoarse when he said, "There is nothing to forgive. It wasn't your fault."

"But –"

"No," he whispered, reaching up and pushing her hair back out of her face. "There was nothing you could have done to prevent the cord getting around her neck, my love…" He leaned in and kissed her softly, gently. "I would like to bring her home, though. Soon."

"I'll introduce you to George, then," she said quietly. "He helped deliver her. He was there when I went to bloody pieces. He helped me, Harry – so much. He gave me a job taking care of his son. He helped me bury Johanna. He'll want to be a part of moving her coffin."

Harry frowned. "I was thinking just you and I –"

"No," she said very quietly. "I can't shut George out, Harry. I won't. We've been through too much together."

"Did you sleep with him?"

"No, never," Ruth said firmly. "I don't want anyone but you, Harry Pearce." Her voice fell on his name, hitching and sounding more like a croak than a proper name. "Not ever," she whispered. "Not ever as long as I live – you are the only man I want. You're my husband, my lover, my friend. I don't need anyone else."

He brushed his lips against hers again, this time with a gentle flick of his tongue. "Ruth, I've missed you badly," Harry groaned softly. "But tonight might not be the best time for –"

"I put my things in here," she said. "I didn't think you'd want me mucking about in your room."

"It's our room," he said gently. "Yours and mine."

"This morning, you had no idea I was here," she sighed.

"Ruth, I've been waiting for you to come home for years," he reminded her. "It never was not our room." He held her hand, squeezing it gently. "Malcolm asked to take his retirement. I'm going to need you back, if you can stomach it, Ruth. We've got Tariq for now, but I'm going to talk to people tomorrow on your behalf, attempting to repair your status in the country –"

"You have a Knighthood, and I'm dead, Harry. That's my status." She shivered a little, and he immediately pulled her closer, warming her up. "It won't go away overnight, no matter who you cajole."

"I'll go straight to Lyonesse if I must," he said with a small smile. "The PM – anyone who can get you legal again."

She kissed him gently on the lips and whispered, "You're mad, Harry."

"We're both knackered," he commented.

"You aren't even making fun," she agreed.

"I've got tomorrow off – the Home Secretary ordered me to stay home." Harry once again ran his hand through his hair. "We can go shopping, get you anything you might need for –"

"I need everything," she murmured. "I've got one pair of knickers left, I've been wearing the same clothes for three days, and my shoes are dreadful."

"I've got all of your things –"

"I've got a bit of baby weight still," she admitted. "I don't think I can fit them now." She didn't want to take her clothes off and shock him with her roundness, but at the same time – taking her clothes off for him was an alluring idea. "May I borrow a shirt tonight?"

He nodded and swallowed hard. "And tomorrow, we'll go shopping first thing."

She hesitated, then leaned in and kissed him. "Harry, I've missed you badly, too," she whispered. "Never doubt how much I've missed you."

"We tried to find you in Athens," he said very quietly. "But you'd already moved on."

She nodded and sighed. "I'm sorry –"

"No, you kept ahead and stayed safe," he said, admiration in his tone. "I know field agents who wouldn't have lasted as long as you did in hiding."

"I had a powerful incentive," she replied, smiling sadly. She leaned over and kissed him once before retreating to the master bedroom. She changed into one of his old shirts and looked up to find him watching her. Once upon a time, she might have blushed. Now, she enjoyed knowing that he still enjoyed the show. "Oi, you," Ruth scolded, "get your pajamas on. If you don't, I'll have to call the cavalry."

He chuckled, then began to undress. She watched him quietly, the lady of the house taking in the form of her husband. He was thinner than he'd been when she'd gone into exile. His body was still powerful and intimidating as he stepped out of his slacks and donned his track pants. He still wore his wedding ring. "Now we're even," he said. "We've both watched each other undress."

She tugged at the t-shirt she'd appropriated and said, "Yes, well…" It barely covered her bum, to be honest – not exactly the signal she wanted to send him. Instead of worrying too much about it, she climbed into bed and waited for him under the covers.

He flipped the lamp off and they lay in the darkness, neither one really sure where they stood with the other. He kissed her gently on the lips and whispered, "I'm happy you're home, Ruth."

"I'm happy to be home," she whispered in reply.

"Tell me about your trip," he said softly.

She shook her head, her breathing shallow. "Not tonight," she murmured. "Tonight, I just want to be happy to be home; glad to see you."

"Was it so bad?"

"No, but I was alone, and I don't want to feel alone anymore," she breathed, leaning in and kissing him very gently on the lips, unsure as to how it would be received. He responded in kind, the kisses not chaste but not intense – just comforting, seeking a need between them not to be alone anymore.

After a few minutes, something shifted – the contact was less about being together and more about… being together. His hand fell on her bum, her fingers caressed the nape of his neck, their tongues tangled together, hearts racing with the want of each other.

Nothing mattered but him – her focus was intense, sharp, a knife honed keenly on three years of unfulfilled desires and wants. Her skin broke into gooseflesh as his fingers crept up her hip under the hem of the t-shirt, catching on the elastic waistband of her knickers. The last time they'd touched like this, it had been perfect, but this was positively electric. Her nipples ached, standing to attention against the thread-bare shirt, the fabric making the ache that much worse. He was hard, she was needy, it felt so right to be doing this again.

"Ruth –"

"I've missed this most," she whispered, guiding his fingers, helping him to take off her knickers. "Us, like this."

"Me, too," Harry agreed, his voice low and deepened with emotion.

They came together, in the darkness of the night, giving and taking love that was their right to give and take. It was quick, intense, but she knew that the time for slow and lazy would come. And it felt so good to feel sore in all the right places again.

Harry breathed against the side of her neck, his arm draped possessively over her ribcage, just below her breasts. No words were needed for either of them, no proclamations of love or devotion, just a warm, contented bliss like a blanket fell over them. She rolled onto her side to face him, closing her eyes and drifting to sleep, legs tangled together, bodies pressed close.

She was home; she was safe.

END PART TWELVE


	13. Chapter 13

Thirteen:  
First Impressions

"This is where you lived?" Harry asked.

"It's George's home," Ruth replied, "I just got a room to sleep in as the nanny. I did the cooking, the cleaning and the wash, and I took care of Nico."

The house was too nice, too spacious, too pleasant. Harry was a little resentful of the fact that she'd lived better than he had for two years, but as long as this George fellow hadn't laid a hand on her, he would let everything slide.

"Come on," she said, opening the car door. "Get your bag and let's go."

He followed her to the front door of the house, where she just walked right in. "George, we're here," Ruth called out. "And we stopped for squid on our way, so I can cook dinner." She held Harry's hand as they stepped through to the kitchen to put the food away.

George was sitting at the table with a mug of coffee and several files. "Welcome back, Lauren," he greeted warmly, rising from his chair, giving her a tight hug that made Harry's fists clench around his bag and the bag of olives and bread. "Nico has missed you – I've missed you."

Ruth smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "I've only been gone two weeks," she scolded gently. "What's going to happen when it's a year or more? You'll forget me and start dating that pretty nurse again, won't you?" she teased. "George, I want you to meet my husband."

Harry felt like a third wheel, awkward, standing out between them in the way. "Mr. Agora," Harry greeted, attempting to hold out his hand to shake George's – but the shopping was still in his hand.

Ruth laughed merrily, her eyes twinkling with mirth as she took the bag from Harry's grasp. "Play nice, dear heart," she commented. "George, this is my Harry – Harry, this is George. First name basis, okay? No awkwardness when Nico comes home or he'll be upset and confused." She glanced over her shoulder at George and said, "By the by, my name isn't really Lauren Reynolds. It's Ruth. Ruth Evershed."

Harry and George stared each other down, appraising each other with mixed emotions on both their parts. Harry, for his, was suddenly concerned because George was handsome and he was not. Had Ruth really been able to resist his obvious appeal? They shook hands and backed apart.

"Laur- Ruth," George corrected himself, "I find myself wondering about the circumstances of your marriage to this man."

Ruth got out of the fridge and said, "Oh, well, we met at work, had a brilliant sex life, and decided to marry one another for our pensions. I can't resist Harry's puppy eyes." She smiled over at him and winked cheekily.

Harry said, "And I find myself concerned about you having been living with a handsome young man –"

"Harry," Ruth scolded gently, "be good. I've already told you that nothing happened between us. Isn't that so, George?"

Harry watched the other man for almost imperceptible shifts that would prove he was lying. "It is so – nothing happened romantically between us," George said. "Lau-Ruth has always had a torch burning for her husband. You. You, though I don't see what she sees in you."

Ruth glared at him. "You behave yourself as well, George. My Harry is a Knight of the Realm, you hear? He might have secreted his sword into his bag for all I know."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Ruth, the sword won't fit in a duffel," he said in a suffering tone.

She laughed and came over to give him a kiss. "George, Harry works for British Intelligence," she said. "And so do I – or I will do once I'm legally alive again. It's complicated. We both work for MI-5 in Counter-terrorism."

"I won't be asking you to sign the Official Secrets Act," Harry said, "but your involvement with Ruth during her exile will not be mentioned in the official report. No one will know, and no one will come after you and Nico again."

"Thank you for that," George said. "It's nice to know that someone cares about my son –"

"Hey, now, what's that meant to mean?" Ruth challenged him. "Who do you think hid you in the first place so that boy wouldn't get killed? And besides, I love that boy like he's my own – he's more than welcome to come visit us in London. We'll go to all of the places he'll be bored to tears at, then I'll take him up to Scotland and just let him run."

George smiled just a little. "As soon as he's a bit older, the plan is to send him to school in England."

"Well, then," she replied, "he'll have to spend short breaks with us, then, won't he, Harry?"

Harry was just watching the scene in front of him, achingly domestic and so much more affectionate and close than he and Ruth had ever been. He felt a pang of guilt for not being there for her like maybe he should have been, but they were going to be all right, weren't they? His jealousy of this George was irrational, wasn't it?

"Of course he's welcome to stay with us," Harry said. "We have a guest room that will be available."

"Of course, I'll have to clean it up a bit first and sort through some of my things," Ruth said. "George, I didn't get any wine for dinner – I hoped you'd still have most of the case we'd picked up…"

"I have two bottles left," George said.

Ruth took over the kitchen, cooking like a madwoman. By the time Nico came home from school, she had pasta tossed with vegetables and squid ready, a salad made of goat cheese, olives, and sour basil, and dessert of the finest British cream puffs, secreted in her bag from the duty-free shop at Heathrow.

Nico flew in the door and cried, "Lauren, Lauren, you're home!" He all but jumped into Ruth's arms, and she squeezed the boy with abandon. "I've missed you so much! Tell me about London! Did you miss Dad and me?"

"Of course I missed you, Nico," Ruth murmured, hugging him tight until he squeaked to be let free. "You've grown again," she scolded. "How dare you go and do that on me?"

"I can't help it," the boy protested. His eyes alit on Harry and his eyebrows rose. "Lauren, who is that?" he asked.

Ruth fondly kissed Nico's cheek and said, "You remember I told you about Sir Harry, my Knight in shining armor back home in England?" He nodded. "Well, this is Sir Harry, in the flesh."

Nico regarded him for a moment, his lips pouting with his concentration. He cocked his head to one side, then the other, and finally he said, "Where is his shining armor, Lauren?"

"I left it at home so it wouldn't make the metal detectors at the airport go off," Harry commented dryly.

Ruth's lips twitched in soft silent laughter. "Nico, go put your bag away and wash up – dinner's ready as soon as you are," she ordered gently. Nico took off running, and George rolled his eyes.

"He's a good boy," George tried to explain, "but he's missing a mother's influence. Ruth has been good for him these last two years and some. His mother died in a car accident when he was very small. It's been just us for a long time – until Ruth came to stay."

"He is a good boy," Ruth agreed. "He just needs a bit of discipline, is all." She smiled and said, "So, wine, anyone?" She held up a bottle.

Dinner was quiet and gentle, with Nico asking many questions about England – of both Ruth and Harry – and about their jobs and things like whether they had pets or not. He ate more of the dinner than Harry had given him credit for, which was something Harry was struggling with. He didn't mind fresh fish, but ever since an altercation with a Japanese agent during his secondment with Six, squid had not been his fancy. Ruth knew that, and yet, she'd insisted on it. So he attempted a little, but it was a losing battle. He was much happier with the salad and cream puffs.

Ruth took Nico upstairs to get him ready for bed, and George said, "Do you know that she cried for you every night? Every night. You don't deserve her."

Harry finished his wine and sighed deeply. "I know," he agreed. "That thought has crossed my mind more times than not since she left me standing on a dock while she went off to see the world. But now, she's home and I still don't deserve her love, do I?"

"Losing Johanna was hard on her," George said. "She was in a bad place after that. I didn't want to see her be so sad, so I suggested she should go on a few outings with Nico. They became very close and I offered her a position as his nanny… and my lover, if she'd like. But she was not interested. Looking at you now, I do not understand."

A muscle in Harry's cheek twitched. "We are very close," he said. "And we are very much in love. No matter what distance is between us."

"Did you know about Johanna?" George asked.

"No, Ruth didn't know she was pregnant before she left," Harry said. She'd told him one morning over sweet tea that she'd never have done it if she'd known. That it was too dangerous of a thing to do while pregnant, and that was probably why she'd been punished with Johanna's death.

"She was so looking forward to having the baby," George said. "She radiated happiness. And when Johanna was stillborn, it was like a switch turned off. I've not seen her happy like she is today since she was pregnant."

Harry's face fell. "Yes, well, losing one's child is something quite tragic. I have two from my first marriage and neither of them care for me very much. Ruth and I spoke about trying for a baby, but… then she was forced into exile. I never imagined this would happen." He shook his head, feeling guiltier than any words could express.

Ruth came back downstairs and into the room. "You never imagined what would happen, love?" she asked, coming over and sitting primly on his lap, draping her arms around him. Harry was taken slightly aback at her forwardness, but then he relaxed into her embrace and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"That you would leave me," he said gently. "And everything that happened afterward."

She smiled sadly and nodded. "I never imagined it, either," she whispered. "But, then again, I'm a spook – I should've known it might happen."

George cleared his throat. They both looked up at him guiltily. "The permissions have come through for Johanna's coffin to be exhumed and shipped on your return flight. They will dig tomorrow."

Harry nodded and said, "Thank you, George, for everything you've done for us here. I know you were looking forward to her birth as much as Ruth was." He fell silent for a moment, then added, "She'll be reburied in the family plot with my mother – where my father and Ruth and myself will be interred eventually."

"I want to be cremated," Ruth protested. Harry gave her a doleful look, and she shut her mouth. "Nevermind, I'll just get a nice hermetically sealed coffin and chill out for eternity as a plague of rotten old guts and bones."

George laughed. "See, I've missed that," he said.

Ruth grinned at him and winked. "Yes, of course, now you have to come to London to get more of my sarcastic wit and charm," she teased.

Harry turned her attention back to him and gave her a kiss. "I'd like to think that you'd want to be with me forever," he teased gently. "Even as rotten old guts and bones."

"Oh, definitely," she agreed, kissing him back. "George, I'm going to pack my things tomorrow and have them shipped home, if that's okay?"

"Of course, Ruth," George said. "We've already put things into boxes for you. Not clothes, mind you, but the other things."

She smiled and asked, "Is it too forward to ask if Harry and I might retire for the night? It's been a long day and tomorrow will be worse."

"Go," George shooed her. "Go rest. Both of you. Tomorrow, we shall be busy with coffins and packing and goodbyes."

Ruth got up and led Harry to her room. They changed into their nightclothes in silence, then climbed into bed. It wasn't a very spacious bed, so they ended up tangled together and in very close quarters, but neither of them could complain much.

"George is a good man," she whispered. "A lonely man. I'd like him to be happy, but I fear it won't happen any time soon." She sighed and tucked her head against Harry's shoulder, seeking comfort.

"The boy is strong and kind," Harry said.

"He was quite brash and fearless until I put the fear of God into him," Ruth murmured. "Now, he's much more manageable." She smiled up at him in the darkness. "Kind of like you, you big lug."

"You didn't put the fear of God into me," he laughed. "I just decided I liked having sex with you better than not having sex with you."

She smiled and gave him a chaste kiss. He knew how she felt, not wanting to take advantage of being guests and going to town on each other. "Good night, my love," she whispered.

"Good night, my darling," he replied, holding her closer and listening to her breathing as she fell asleep.

* * *

They stood in the shade, watching their daughter's coffin being dug up. Harry ran a handkerchief over his forehead to soak up some of the sweat, then offered it to her. Ruth declined, merely covering her mouth as she watched the coffin come out of the ground. It was small and easily lifted, then carried away to be taken to the airport. The coffin would travel on several flights and be met by Ros and Jo at Heathrow and taken to the Church in Hampstead for burial. Ruth and Harry would then fly home in the morning and go to the Church to pay their respects.

He'd been so tender, so caring, making as many of the arrangements as he could, and she was grateful for it – because she was going to pieces again. She wanted to ask him if they could try again for a baby, but it was ridiculous – she wasn't getting any younger and neither was he. It was selfish and poorly timed, this intense want to have another child – her child – in her arms.

Johanna had been small and perfect, bundled in her hospital blanket as Ruth had held her and wept for all the things that could not ever be. Now, her arms just felt empty. Harry put his arm around her and whispered, "I know, Ruth. I know."

She sniffled and whispered, "I'm sorry."

There were tears in his eyes as he replied, "Don't be. It's only human to be upset right now. If I wasn't staying strong for you, I would be a right mess."

"Then don't be strong," she whispered. "I don't need you to be strong. I need you to feel how I feel, Harry – and I've lost my little girl again. All over again."

"Tell me about her again," he whispered.

She told him all about the baby she'd held, how she had kicked and responded to her voice, all of the dreams she'd had for them, even if they couldn't return home to him. She needed him to know that Johanna had always been wanted, needed, loved. She needed him to know that loving their child had kept her loving him more and more every day. She needed him to know that she still loved him desperately and she wanted them to have happiness now instead of sadness.

Long after the coffin was gone, they were still standing under the tree, holding each other and whispering about how she would have been brilliant, sweet, and kind – but stubborn and loud-tempered and every bit theirs.

END PART THIRTEEN


	14. Chapter 14

Fourteen:  
First True Excitement

"No offense, my love, but you reek of whiskey," Ruth said, wrinkling her nose.

Harry regarded her for a moment, and said softly, "I had one drink about lunch with the DG. That's long enough to have worn off."

"Yeah, well, you don't get to kiss me till you change and brush your teeth," she sighed. "I'd love to dump that bottle you've got if it didn't mean I had to smell it on you, but that's counterproductive."

"Since when are you anti-whiskey?"

"Since I woke up one morning, smelled your breath, and stumbled to the bathroom, sick to my stomach," she muttered, putting a tiny bit of butter on her toast. She took a bite, then pushed it away, still feeling like she might be ill. "God, I feel funny," she sighed. "Am I fevered?"

Harry placed his palm across her forehead and tsked. "You are rather warm," he said gently. "Straight to bed with you, Mrs. Pearce."

"I've felt dreadful all day," she sighed. She'd spent a good portion of the day either in his office or in the ladies' with her tablet and a stack of files, but she'd never admit to him that she'd not been at her station. He would worry too much and she didn't - couldn't - take sick days.

"Why didn't you say something?" he asked, brushing her hair back out of her face. "The Division Head is not an ogre, my love – he won't send you to the dungeon for eating some bad oysters last night."

She made a sick face as her stomach roiled at the thought of the oysters they'd shared at the restaurant the night before. "Oh god, Harry, I'm going to be sick," she panted only moments before she lost control of her stomach. He looked like he was going to murder her in her sleep for vomiting on his shoes. She was absolutely miserable – and the act of throwing up had only made her feel worse.

She was shaking, weak, as he helped her upstairs, put her under a tepid shower to bring her temperature down, and then wrapped her in a fluffy towel. "Now," he said, "do you feel any better or are you going to ruin more articles of my clothing?"

"I feel rather unwell," she moaned.

"Then let's get you some water and medicine," he sighed, his voice softening. "Next time, remind me to sod the oysters and just go with ceviche instead."

"Oh, god, the thought of food is making me queasy," she groaned, rubbing her forehead. The last time she'd felt this sick, she'd been in Vienna and hadn't been able to leave the hostel for days. A young girl named Marie had cared for her, made sure she'd been able to eat some bread, drink some wine to settle her stomach. Oh – OH –

Harry returned from the loo with pills and a glass of water. "Just please take them," he insisted.

She ticked down an invisible list. Sore breasts – definitely. He'd groped them the other night and she'd slapped him. It wasn't a deterrent. Nausea, headache, fever – oh, yes. Sensitivity to smell – whiskey, his cologne, eggs, chicken, fish and chips all were high on her list of never wanting to be smelled again. When was her last period? She didn't know, really. She'd spotted a bit, but nothing concrete. The doctor had patronizingly told her it was menopause, and Ruth had stormed out. That was, what, six weeks ago?

She blinked and counted backward in her head, landing on a day – a beautiful day, a Sunday – when they'd gone for a long drive into the country and made love in a field of wildflowers. She'd called him her satyr and laughed as she'd tucked a flower behind his ear. He felt that making love in the grass was quite odd and something they should never repeat.

"Now, give me the towel," Harry said gently. "I'll sleep in the spare room and you can call out if you feel like – Ruth, what's wrong?"

She shook her head and exhaled. "Do… do you think you could do me a favor and pop round to the chemist's before they close?"

"For…?"

She paused and said, "No, nevermind, it's just the oysters."

"Ruth?"

She could barely meet his gaze. "I think I'm… I think I'm pregnant, Harry," she said very quietly. "I need you to run and get a test. Please."

The silence was deafening. "The last time someone said that to me, I ended up with a son," he finally said, exhaling. "Could I be so lucky again?"

"I don't know, but I feel awful and if I am, I'd at least like to know it wasn't just your bloody oysters," she moaned.

He kissed her forehead and said, "Of course – I'll be back as quickly as I can."

She muttered something to the affirmative and got up, pushing past him and going into the loo, slamming the door shut before he could follow.

* * *

Harry kept a close eye on his watch, and a closer eye on his ill wife. Five minutes, the test said. She'd muttered about the indignity of peeing in a cup, but once the test was primed, she'd collapsed in bed, making noises of discontent.

On the one hand, the idea of a baby with Ruth was exciting. On the other, it was terrifying. He wasn't getting any younger and if they had a baby now, he'd be nigh unto eighty when he or she went to university. Of course, the pain that they shared over losing Johanna was also clouding his judgment; he didn't want there to be any reason for Ruth to grieve more if something were to happen.

"How much longer?" she breathed, not moving a muscle. Harry wondered if she would be all right or if he should be taking her to casualty.

"You have good timing," he said mildly.

"Klutzy, but my internal clock is Swiss," she groaned, trying to sit up.

He made her lie down again. "Just rest – I'll get the test."

"Yes, but –"

He kissed her very softly. "I'm meant to look for a blue plus sign," he said. Even he could handle that – it couldn't be very difficult.

He went to the loo and picked up the stick, staring at it for a long time. He went back to the bedroom and said, "I think we should take you to casualty – you're dehydrated and that can't be good for the baby."

She looked up at him, eyes bright with tears. "Really? You're not playing just to get me to go to hospital, are you?"

"Really, truly," he said firmly, holding up the pregnancy test so she could see it. "We're going to be parents and I can think of nothing better or more terrifying than the thought of our child careening across the Grid at top speed."

"Oh no, our child is never going to work with us," Ruth said in an equally firm tone. She sat up and set about pulling on clean clothes. "Not ever. And if they keep me in hospital overnight, what will you tell everyone?"

"That you had bad oysters," he said, smiling. "No one needs know right now but us."

She didn't respond to the medicine and the IV fluids straight away, so it was decided she would stay overnight. Harry refused to leave her side, which led to a row with the consulting Obstetrician who wanted him out of the room while she examined Ruth.

"Dear heart," Ruth sighed, "I will be fine. Go on and get a coffee. I don't even feel sick anymore, I promise."

He'd left, growling and begrudging everyone the right to touch her when she was so fragile. The coffee from the vending machine was too hot and it burned his mouth. The sandwich he'd gotten from the canteen was barely tolerable. He was worried about Ruth and now he had to worry about their child, as well. It was a tall order.

He texted Ros and said that he would be late in, probably around lunchtime. She replied back, inquiring why. He hesitated only a moment before saying that Ruth was in hospital overnight for observation and fluids due to food poisoning. It was partially true. Ros would take it at face value – vomit, food poisoning, and defecation were all things she did not handle well.

When he went back to Ruth's room, the OB was leaving. "Is she going to be all right?" he asked her with no small amount of concern.

"As you know, Miss Evershed is above the 40 threshold we consider to be relatively low risk," the OB said. "So we'll need to keep a close eye on her. She's about eleven weeks along, according to the scan data, but it could be off by up to two weeks. Either way, aside from her dehydration and fever, she seems to be in quite good health. Congratulations."

"Eleven weeks?" Harry said, flipping back the calendar of his mind. Oh yes. The operation in Scotland where he'd stupidly gone in without backup and came out with another scar on his belly. They'd had a row loud enough to wake the entire hotel and then had sex so profound that he instantly got hard even now, just thinking about it. "Well… that's something." He had to smile about something so good coming out of a situation so bad. "Thank you, doctor."

Ruth was chewing on her thumbnail when he entered the room and closed the door. "I thought you'd done a runner," she admitted anxiously.

"No, I was just speaking with the OB," he said, settling into one of the uncomfortable chairs at her bedside. "So, a baby."

"Harry, are you happy?" she asked. "You are, aren't you?"

He paused, thinking of all of his current worries, including the selfishness of having a baby in their jobs, but pushed them all aside in favor of the fact that he and Ruth were going to have a child. A child not to replace the one that they had lost, but maybe just to take away the painful ache.

"Harry?" she whispered worriedly.

"I'm over the moon," he whispered. "I'm so happy I'm scared at the intensity of my feelings. About the baby – about you."

She nodded and looked down at her hands, nervously working the edge of the hospital blanket. "I'm happy, but I'm scared to death," she admitted, her voice low and rough.

"Me, too," he agreed. "But life is a puzzle of bits that don't quite fit, isn't it? Yes, we're a little late in starting a family – but it's happening and I'm quite looking forward to finding a new house big enough for all of us. And the nappies and the waking up at all hours of the night." He smiled at her. "I've done it before," he reminded her. "But this time, I'll do it better."

"You better," she said, "because there's no way I can go it alone, Harry. Not to mention when I return to work, we'll have to have a nanny –"

"Darling, I won't shag the nanny," he promised.

"No, you won't, because you'll be too busy shagging me to even think about the nanny," she promised. "I know how important sex is, Harry, even when we're knackered." She exhaled and pressed her hand against her belly. "Hello, little one – we're just carrying on like you aren't even here, aren't we? Mummy's sorry, darling."

His heart melted as he watched her talking softly to her belly. He'd noticed the last few times they'd made love that she was softer, rounder – her curves were curvier and he loved every minute of it. She'd slapped him when he'd been a bit too rough with her breasts, but he just continued on, gentler. Now he knew and would avoid hurting her again. In the back of his mind, maybe he'd known she was pregnant, but now it was real to him, and her smile was lovely.

He leaned in close and put his hand over hers. "Hello, little one," he said softly, echoing her words. "Daddy cannot wait for you to be born so he can show you off to all of the pompous, uppity politicians he's forced to endure – you'll be a weapon of mass adorability, you know. Especially if you have mummy's eyes and smile."

Ruth had tears in her eyes as he looked up at her, and he merely smiled.

"Daddy is very silly," she said. "He doesn't seem like he would be, when you first meet him, but it's there. He's very silly with mummy and you, isn't he?"

He leaned in and gave her a kiss. "You're the only one I can be silly with," he said gently.

She nodded and smiled, exhaling a happy sigh. "I'm supposed to rest," she said, "but I'm so excited now, I don't know how I'll be able to sleep."

"Do you still feel ill?" he asked, quite concerned.

"Oh, no, they gave me medicine to stop the nausea," she said quickly. "I'm all right now. And there'll be another trip to the chemist before work to get more of those magic pills so I don't ruin your shoes again."

"Sod my shoes," Harry said. "I can always get another pair. I can't, however, make you feel better when you're unwell." He leaned down and said pointedly to her abdomen, "Stop making mummy ill, do you hear me?"

Her lips twitched as she attempted to hold back a laugh, but she finally let it loose. "Oh, Harry, don't ever change," she murmured, affectionately ruffling his hair.

He smiled back at her, holding her hand through the dead of night, even as she finally nodded off fitfully.

END PART FOURTEEN


	15. Chapter 15

Fifteen:  
First Family Outing

"Seriously?" Ruth sighed. "Honestly?"

"I'm certain that –"

She cut him off with a dismissive wave of the hand. "Harry, I'm six months pregnant," she reminded him gravely. "I can't just show up at the annual Intelligence Services dinner on your arm like we're not flaunting our relationship to everyone. Nightingale already knows we're deep on their trail and I'm not putting our child at more risk than I have to." She huffed a little and took another sip of her non-alcoholic wine, wriggling her toes in the bathwater. He'd been a doll and sent someone round to get more of her Blue Skies bubble bars from Lush after she'd complained about being stressed. With the pressure they were under, was it any wonder she was stressed?

"There are still people who don't know we're married," Harry reminded her. "I'd like to shock them. To give them something to gossip about."

She glowered at him. "You just want me there to talk to," she accused, "when something goes horribly wrong, you want me to be there as your backup." It was their usual method, wasn't it?

He gave her a gentle kiss and sighed. "Really, I just want you off the Grid for a few hours with me – you've been working far too hard, my love. It's not good for the baby."

"She's fine," Ruth replied automatically. "She's kicking away and being precious, as usual."

"I want to share my happiness with the world," he said with a grin. "Please come."

She scowled, pressing her lips together into a thin line. "If I do, will you promise we can talk about colors for the nursery this weekend?" she asked.

"Oh, definitely," he agreed. "We don't have much time to get everything ready, do we?"

She rolled her eyes and sighed. "Longer than you think," she scolded. "But, no, not as much as if we'd started earlier. Bloody country going to hell and all."

"Speaking of, the Home Secretary was inquiring about you today," Harry said.

She made an even more disgusted face. "Bloody hell," she muttered, downing the last of her wine in one gulp. "I hope you told him I fell off the face of the earth."

"I did not," Harry said, indignant.

"He came by yesterday – just missed you heading out for your meeting with the Canadian asset," she sighed, not liking this at all. Harry would spin off into a jealous rage and knock Andrew Lawrence's teeth in or something. "I told him you were out for a meeting and he hung around my desk, chatting and flirting like he couldn't care less that I'm big as a house. And I didn't really feel like it was within my power to tell him to sod off because my husband sleeps with a machete under his pillow."

Harry frowned, then said, "I haven't told him that you're my wife."

"I'm tired of there being no distinction," Ruth said quietly. It had led to many a misunderstanding, that she was still Evershed, not Pearce. So she'd done the paperwork and forced it into the system to change her last name legally. It was like painting a giant target on her back – or, in this case, her large baby bump. "So I've put in the paperwork to change my last name. And I need to get a bigger ring since I'm all puffy and my wedding band doesn't fit now."

"I'll get right on that," he said, leaning in to give her a kiss. "Did he try anything untoward?"

"No, just flirted and said that my baby's father was clearly a lucky man," she hedged. "He has no idea how lucky, does he?"

Harry laughed and said, "My love, you're all wrinkly like a prune."

"Yes, well, once I get IN the bath, I require much assistance to get OUT of the bath," she sighed, holding up her hands so he could help her to her feet. "And you were late, so I was stuck."

Harry's hand came to rest on her belly, seeking out the gentle kicks of his child. Ruth smiled at the simple awe and love on his face – he was so in love with their baby already, he was practically daft. "Oh, there you are, little one," he said softly. "Daddy's very sorry he was late. He had to stop by the shops and get something for mummy on the way home."

"Harry," she sighed.

"Something for you to wear tomorrow," he said. "Nothing untoward or naughty."

"I should hope not," she said, frowning a little as he helped towel her off. "All the other wives will be dowdy and the singles will be glamorous and I'll be on your arm, bloody big as a beached whale."

His eyes twinkled as he said, "You will be the most beautiful woman in the room, my love."

"God, you're a sap," she protested.

"Your sap," he reminded her, walking with her to the bedroom, where he tucked her up. "Now, after my shower, we'll talk about names and things. My son deserves to not be named after me."

She laughed. "Trust me, Harry, it's a girl," she said. "I will stake my half of the holiday fund on it."

"Well, then, we'll discuss both," he said with a smile, kissing her forehead. "And we can argue and kiss and make up."

"Oh, can we skip the argument and go straight to the kissing and fucking?" Ruth asked mischievously. "I'd like that better."

"Oh, I expect you would," he laughed. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

He washed the cares of the day away and when he returned to the bedroom in just his towel, she'd come out from under the covers, lounging on her side, completely naked. "Ruth –"

"I got overheated," she said pointedly. "You should remember that I'm pumping blood for two and I get very warm very easily."

Yeah, and he felt like he was pumping blood for two – right to his… He groaned and said, "How am I meant to have a conversation about baby names if I can't think because I want to ravish you?"

"Adam Malcolm for a boy and Helen Rosamund for a girl," she said. "My picks."

He said, "Adam Malcolm Thomas for a boy and Zoe Rosamund for a girl."

"See, that wasn't so hard," she murmured, setting aside her book and licking her lips as her hand drifted down from her collarbone to her breast. "Unlike your –"

He all but pounced on her.

* * *

He slipped the new ring – a lovely band of platinum studded with amethysts – onto her finger and said, "Now, the Home Secretary has no reason to attempt to entice you away, for any reason."

She smiled and gave him a kiss. "It's lovely," she murmured. "Thank you."

"You're lovely," he replied. The dress he'd chosen flattered her immensely, from the richly regal shade of purple to the cut that highlighted her belly and larger breasts tastefully. He'd taken great care, knowing she was prickly about her weight and how her body was changing, but he'd wanted her to feel sexy and alluring for him as well.

"You don't clean up so badly, yourself," she teased gently. "Of course, you do realize that bow tie will be the first thing off when we get back to the car."

"Oh, and here I was thinking it might be my trousers," he laughed, giving her another sweet kiss as they arrived at the venue. "Come, Lady Pearce, let's throw ourselves on the mercy of the wolves."

He helped her from the car, smiling as she immediately took his arm. It felt good, right, knowing that she was so comfortable with asserting her possession of him in that small way. He covered her hand with his own, just as he had so many years ago when they'd been at that diplomatic dinner, and grinned down at her.

"You've got a look like Fidget when he gets into the rubbish," Ruth said. "A bit smug."

"I have the most beautiful woman in the Service on my arm," Harry replied. "And she married me. And she's the mother of my child. I believe I have a right to be a bit smug."

"You also have the right to be a bit smug because you know I won't be able to keep my hands off of you when we get home for the night," she purred softly, looking up at him with adoring but predatory eyes.

He laughed as they walked in together. There was a kind of hush that settled for a moment, then the lively talk began again. Lucas came over and said, "There was speculation that neither of you would show."

"I hope you put ten quid on us arriving together," Ruth replied.

"I put fifty quid on it, but only because I didn't want to tip my hand," Lucas replied with a cheeky grin. Harry knew he was harmless when it came to Ruth, so he didn't mind their teasing – which sometimes slipped into borderline naughtiness. Playful Ruth was a happy Ruth, so he was just glad to see her smile. "The Home Secretary has been inquiring about you both."

"And did you tell him that we had every intention of being here?" Harry snapped irritably.

Ruth squeezed his arm. "Harry," she scolded gently. "Be good."

"He needs to learn his place," Harry growled dangerously. "Which is not worshipping at the feet of MY wife."

She blushed a little and said, "Ah, yes, but you've sent round reports detailing your team's members and their value to operational stability, and that's probably why he's taken a shine. You forget to have me edit down the overwhelming praise for my work before you turn it over."

"Speak of the devil," Lucas commented, "he's grilling Ros right now, but he's definitely noticed your arrival."

A muscle in Harry's jaw twitched. Andrew Lawrence was just too young and too slick to be in the job of Home Secretary. His trying to grease Ruth's pole – however figuratively – proved that. But he had to play nice with the boy, pat him on the head and give him a sweetie before he delivered messages that usually left him feeling ill. Being social with the man was not going to be pleasant.

"Sir Harry," Lawrence said, abandoning Ros in favor of his company, "I'm glad you and Miss Evershed could make it this evening – I'm told that there was something that might have prevented it…"

"Oh, yes, my desire to have an early night," Harry replied, squeezing Ruth's hand. "I'm not as young as I used to be, after all, and my lovely lady keeps me up to all hours." She pinched his arm warningly.

"Ah, yes – your… paramour?"

"My wife," Harry said pointedly. "Perhaps you've met." His voice lowered dangerously. "Home Secretary, I present Lady Ruth Pearce – my wife."

Lawrence spluttered a bit, then said, "Bloody hell, Harry, that wasn't in any of the briefings and her name is Evershed on –"

"Personal and secretarial oversight," Harry said mildly. "Isn't that right, my love?"

"Um, yes," Ruth said softly. "Home Secretary, I apologize for my husband's behavior. He's kind of a boer at times when it comes to the safety of myself and the baby. Aren't you, dear heart?" she said, stroking Harry's arm gently, trying to calm him.

"Bloody hell, I apologize for – for – the other day," Lawrence stammered.

"Apology accepted," Ruth said.

Lucas chuckled. "Harry, you might want to accept it as well."

"I don't think I shall," Harry replied. "But I will respectfully demand that any further requests for my wife's time and consideration come through me first."

"Harry," Ruth said warningly, "jealousy doesn't suit you. What happened means nothing to me anyway. And poor Andrew is scared of you now. Be good and play nicely with the other children. Apologize."

Harry gritted his teeth. "Home Secretary, forgive my lapse in judgment."

"Uh, yes," Lawrence said, beating a hasty retreat.

"It's no wonder I spend so much time unruffling feathers at the Home Office," she sighed. "I need a drink – cranberry and orange juice with a bit of soda water, if you can manage it. I'm going to speak with Ros."

Harry at least felt chagrinned as he watched her stride over to Ros and speak softly to her. He'd acted an overbearing fool and now she was upset. He was not looking forward to the rest of the night.

* * *

"Have you found it?" Ruth whispered.

Ros nodded and said very lowly, "Bottom of the service elevator, remote detonator, radius of 50m for the signal. That means our bomber is in this room. Likely an agent planted by Nightingale. Perfect cover, attempting to blow up the entirety of the Secret Services at once – clean the slate and then move on to the next part of their plan."

Ruth swallowed hard. "Shit," she said, her hand involuntarily moving to her belly to soothe the baby, who was kicking up a storm. "Can you disarm it?"

"Tariq and Dimitri are already attempting it," Ros said. "You have the hardest job of anyone tonight, Ruth. You have to keep Harry here and not show him any kind of fear. If people begin to leave, the bomber will detonate the bomb. There are enough explosives to take down the entire building."

Ruth nodded and said, "I'll do it. But I don't like it. Not at all."

"I don't like asking you to risk yourself or the baby, either," Ros murmured. "But there's no one else who can do what I'm asking you to do, Ruth. Buy us time. Dance with him, snog him – do whatever you have to do to keep him in this room."

Harry came over with the glass of juice Ruth had requested and he said, "You both look deep in thought."

"Just wondering if you were still planning on blue or pink for the nursery," Ros said.

"Oh, no, we decided on yellow and orange," Harry said. "With a navy bedset."

"Yes," Ruth spoke up. "It's quite lovely – you should come see it, Ros. We'll have you round for dinner and drinks and a tour of the new place."

Ros nodded. "I'd like that," she agreed. "Excuse me, I need to speak to Elsie Cummings from Six about something related to a mutual friend." She slipped away, leaving Ruth and Harry to themselves.

Ruth did everything she could to be the perfect plus one of the great Harry Pearce, promenading around with him, laughing at insipid jokes, making tawdry small talk. All the while, she waited for a signal from Ros – it had been bloody difficult to hide her comms from Harry. Especially since the battery pack usually needed to be at the small of her back to be hidden from sight. Not so, tonight – she was never so glad for her ample cleavage and a good bra. The battery pack was snug at the bottom of one of the cups, only poking her a touch.

Harry led her away from the Foreign Secretary and said, "I sense you're feeling ill at ease, Lady Pearce."

"Ah, yes, well… I would be, wouldn't I?" Ruth replied. "Social functions aren't really my forte, are they?"

He gave her a gentle kiss and smiled. "No, that they are not – however, your forte is not to be discussed in polite company."

She blushed scarlet, poking him in the gut. "Behave, Sir Harry."

"I can't wait until time for dinner," he commented. "There's a surprise waiting for you at the end –"

"Oh, I can't bear surprises," she huffed.

He leaned in closely and whispered, "How does Dame Commander of the Most Honourable Order of the Bath suit you?"

She blinked at him. "What?" Her jaw dropped. "Harry, I've done nothing to be knighted for!"

"Shh," he whispered. "Of course you have. Going back undercover with Her Majesty sealed the deal in her eyes. So you'll be equal to me, and yet even more powerful, if I might be so honest."

"I'm – I'm in shock," she exhaled. "Bloody hell, Harry."

He smiled and nuzzled her neck, giving her another quick kiss. "Are you pleased?"

"I'm… flummoxed," she admitted weakly.

"You deserve it," he whispered.

"Delta Two," Ros said over the comm, "package has been neutralized. Get Delta One out NOW."

Ruth grabbed Harry's hand and said, "Well, I can think of no better way to celebrate than to go to the ladies' and have a moment alone." She tugged on his hand, leading him out of the room. Once they were in the ladies', she shut them in a stall and carefully retrieved her weapon from its holster on her thigh.

"Ruth, what on –" She put her hand over his mouth, telling him to shut up with the calm panic in her eyes. He fell silent.

They could hear distant gunplay, and then Ros crackled down the line, "Delta Two, suspect down. I repeat, suspect down."

Ruth holstered her gun again and leaned in to kiss Harry soundly. "We can go back now," she whispered. "I'll tell you – I'll tell you all about it later. There will be an inquiry and I'll need you to stand behind the team's actions. But… I think you'll understand."

He swallowed hard. "We, uh, got you a cake to celebrate the Damehood –"

"I don't really feel like cake now," she admitted, giving him a quick kiss before she retreated from the loo.

END PART FIFTEEN


	16. Chapter 16

Sixteen:  
First Want of Escape

Ros's funeral was an enigma like the woman herself; Harry had never thought she'd believed in anything but the good of the State, but she'd believed in God and an afterlife of riches of the soul. It went to show how little he truly knew about anyone. Even walking hand in hand with Ruth around the grounds of the Church, he knew so little about the woman he loved.

They stopped at a wooden divide – not really much of a fence, but a divider – and Ruth leaned heavily against it. Eight months now, not long left until their little one was due to come into the world. She was tired, weary – they both were. Too much had happened, not enough had happened.

He saw her as his angel, a beacon of hope and good in the darkness of this hell they were living through. She was beautiful, sweet, and he would give the world for a glimmer of her smile. Ruth glanced over at him and said, "I miss her already."

Harry nodded and said, "We've lost too much, too many good people…"

"I'm still mad at you for going down there," she whispered. "In the thick of it, not knowing when the bomb would go off and if –"

"Someone had to take charge and steer the situation," he said quietly.

"For Queen and Country means nothing if you die," she murmured. "Ros only had six people at her funeral – seven if you count the baby. I don't want that for you – I don't want that for me. We're so much more than just this job, this secret life, aren't we?" His heart broke, seeing the tears rolling down her cheeks, the pain in her eyes.

He put his arm around her shoulders and held her. "We are," he promised. "Ruth, we are so much more." They were beacons of hope in an otherwise torn world. They were going to be parents, with all that that would entail – meetings and play groups and schools and finding the best toys for Christmas and special birthday parties… They were so much more than the Service.

Ruth inhaled shakily, exhaled, and leaned against him.

"Ruth, I've been giving this some thought for a while," Harry said softly. "And I think it's time I retire. Not immediately, right now, but in about five years' time – after I've trained a suitable replacement. And when I leave the Service, I'd like you to do so as well."

She said, "You're asking me to retire with you?"

He nodded. "We'll find a little place for just us and the baby – who won't be a baby anymore by then – with good schools and a good pub and no mad bombers or plots against the government… and we'll be happy. Run away with me, Ruth."

"Of course," she whispered, holding his hand and squeezing it tightly. "Just say when," she promised. "Just say when you're ready – where you lead, I shall follow."

"I don't want you to be blindly obedient –"

She smiled and said, "Oh, believe me, I'm not. I'll be very much not obedient, just for you, my love. I just… I'm tired. And retirement sounds lovely. Especially now that I have to tell you something dreadful."

He sighed and let her shift to root in her bag for a folder. "Ruth, now isn't the time –"

"No, it's exactly the time," she murmured sadly. "Ros would think so." She opened the manila file and showed it to him. "Nightingale conspirators. They've buried their trails deeper than I've ever seen. But last night, we came up with something."

Nicholas Blake's photo and dossier were on full display. Harry blinked, stunned, horrified at the slap of betrayal. The man had been good at his job, trusted – surely this was a joke gone wrong.

"He was part of the inner circle, Harry," she said softly. "He gave the order to bomb the hotel."

"But they smeared him, they forced him to resign –"

"It was a smokescreen," she said with finality to her tone. "Everything's in there."

He fought with himself for a long moment, his fingers digging into the fence as he tried to remain calm. It wasn't working – his demons were about to spill out and commit bloody crimes of their own merit. "Do you ever feel as if you can't go on, Ruth?" he asked, voice hoarse.

"Can't go on," she whispered, "must go on." She put the file away and said, "I'll be in the car, Harry. I know you need a moment to let this go down."

He couldn't think. He couldn't understand what would possess a man to betray everything and everyone he had ever stood for. There was no honor, no money, nothing of that value in his life. Except Ruth and the baby. If someone ever harmed them, he would be no better than Blake.

* * *

Ruth waited up, anxiously hoping Harry would come home. He'd taken her back to work and then he'd disappeared without a trace. He wasn't picking up his phone, comms were down – he'd even disabled the tracker on the car. Whatever he was doing, he didn't want anyone to know. And that frightened her.

She woke up, staring at the clock. It didn't stare back; just flashed 3:24. She moaned and heard Harry's tired tread up the stairs. "Where have you been?" Ruth called into the darkness.

"Away," he said. "I'm sorry if I woke you –"

"You should have called," she scolded gently. "I've been worried sick."

"I'm fine," he said, his voice strangely devoid of emotion. "I needed to take a quick trip away without alerting the entire Grid. How is our princess this morning?"

She frowned. "Suddenly you think we're having a daughter?" she asked suspiciously.

"I don't want to fight," he said softly. "How is the baby?"

"Very active," Ruth said. "The scan looks good – I've got one of those 3D images for your desk if you want it. I'm to expect Braxton-Hicks contractions to start any time, and we should have regular sex to thin the mucus membrane and help start labor." She paused. "I think that's everything, but I'm still very sleepy…"

He leaned over and kissed her deeply. "Thank you," he whispered.

"For what?"

"I needed a reminder of everything good in the world," he said, sadly. "I'm not a good man, Ruth. I've never been a good man. I've always been…"

"Difficult," she supplied mildly.

"Stubborn."

"You are a wonderful man to me, Harry," she whispered, stroking his cheeks in the darkness. "I love you, no matter what perceived injustices you may suffer at your hands or the hands of anyone else. You hear me?"

"How can you just blindly give me your trust like that?" he asked.

"You've never given me reason to doubt you," she murmured. "Not ever, Harry." She kissed him gently, sweetly, on the lips. It didn't surprise her when he deepened the kiss – in fact, it felt good. Her hormones had been in overdrive all day, coupled with the soul-crushing sadness of Ros's funeral and the horror of Blake's betrayal, so now she was taut like bowstring, her body sparking like a livewire.

He took her on a wild ride, kissing, caressing, licking, touching – and by the time she was sated, he just kissed her. He didn't want anything in return – just seemingly wanted to apologize for waking her up in the middle of the night. "Mmm," she hummed tiredly.

"Go to sleep," he whispered. "I'll make breakfast."

"Harry?"

"Yes?"

"Did you mean what you said earlier about retiring soon?"

He was very quiet for a long time, so long that she almost fell asleep in the interim. "I meant it with all my heart," Harry said softly.

"Good," she mumbled, slipping into sleep.

* * *

"Please tell me you had nothing to do with this," Ruth said, tossing the morning paper onto his desk. The headline was 'Former Home Secretary Dead From Heart Attack', and she was nothing if not keen to believe the worst.

Of course, in this case, that was justified – and his early morning arrival clearly had twigged something in her brain, because she was all but accusing him of murder…

Get a grip, Harry, he scolded himself.

"Of course I didn't have anything to do with that – heart attacks happen naturally," he said with a sigh.

"Where were you then?" she demanded. "All day yesterday?"

"I went north to meet an asset," he said. "Just leave it, please."

She stopped in front of his desk and put her hands on her hips. She clearly had no idea how ridiculous – yet intimidating – she looked like that. "Are you cheating on me?" Ruth demanded.

"What?" he asked in stunned disbelief. "How can you even ask that question?"

"Then tell me the truth about where you were." She glared at him. "Mr. Big Shot Spy."

"Ruth, don't you think you're being a little irrational?"

"No, I don't."

"I had nothing to do with Blake's death," Harry said, convincing himself of that even as he did her. The truth was, his actions had signed his death warrant, so Harry carrying out the deed wasn't a sin. "And I am not cheating on you."

Ruth scowled and came around the desk, slapping him hard across the shoulder. "Don't go anywhere without your comms again," she said irritably. "You scared me, Harry. Badly."

"Would you stop hitting me?" he asked gently. "How are you feeling?"

She grunted. "I'm having contractions – it's annoying."

"Oh shit – should we be going to the hospital?"

"No," she sighed. "It's Braxton-Hicks. I'm sore and annoyed."

"All right," he said softly. "You'll tell me if something changes, though?"

She sat down on his lap and tucked her head against his shoulder. He gently rubbed her belly, feeling the muscles ripple beneath his hand. "Yes," she murmured. "I'll tell you."

"Is it very painful?"

"Enough so," she sighed.

"I'm sorry, Ruth," Harry said honestly. "I wish I could take all of that pain away."

"It'll be over soon enough," she promised.

He wondered if it would ever be soon enough.

END PART SIXTEEN


	17. Chapter 17

Author's note: I'm sorry about the more brief chapters as of late - I've been juggling 2 jobs, a corporate visit, and not sleeping. :) It's okay, however!

* * *

Seventeen:  
First Hello

The EERIE exercise was going well, Ruth had to admit. Much better than the one when Tom had been in charge. Everything moved along a regular, pre-destined path, and Lucas and Dimitri handled each decision with aplomb.

Ruth was meant to have gone on leave already, but Harry had delayed her in the interests of the exercise, so it would serve him right if she gave birth in the middle of the lockdown. Which was becoming increasingly likely: her contractions were still bearable, but at six minutes apart, how much longer did she really have? It was very hard to keep her game face on, to concentrate, to pretend that she wasn't in agony.

She snapped a pen in half and got up, pacing the Grid aimlessly. At least Harry wasn't playing at being dead or dying this time. Ruth couldn't bear it if he were to do that.

The next contraction came faster, and Ruth's knees almost buckled. "Oh, god," she exhaled as Dimitri caught her and held her up. "This is bad on so many levels," she panted.

Beth immediately came over and said, "How far apart are your contractions?"

"Less than five minutes now," Ruth whimpered. "My water broke hours ago."

"HARRY!" Beth shouted, drawing him out of his office. "Please tell me that Ruth going into labor wasn't part of the exercise," she said.

"What?" Harry said.

"Your wife is in labor," Beth said. "Can we call off the exercise and get a medic in here?"

"No, keep on," Ruth breathed weakly. "Keep on without me – Tariq will help." She swallowed hard, nervously, and leaned on Dimitri as another contraction slammed into her – lasting longer and coming faster than even the last.

"I've delivered babies," Beth said. "In Colombia – "

Harry gently put his arm around what used to be her waist and said, "I wish I'd been able to make a birthing class or two."

Ruth grunted something unintelligible – she didn't even know what she was saying because the pain was too great to bear. "I don't think we're going to have time for a medic," she finally managed to pant.

"We should get her into your office," Beth said. "She should be as comfortable as we can make her."

Ruth bit back a hysterical laugh that came out like a strangled cry. "There is nothing about this process that's comfortable," she whined as they helped her into Harry's office and Beth slid the door closed before Lucas and Dimitri could follow. She pulled the shades while Harry helped Ruth down onto the floor with the cushions from the chairs.

"I'm so sorry, Ruth," Harry said. "You should've gone on leave –"

"My boss is a prick," she grunted, biting her lip and trying to force back the urge to bear down.

Beth got down on her level and started to check her over. "Okay, yeah, there's no way a medic would get here in time – Ruth, you're crowning," she said.

"What does that mean?" Harry asked, anxiously.

"I can see the baby's head – I thought you had kids," Beth said, frowning at him.

"I wasn't in the country when they were born," he said indignantly.

"Oh my GOD," Ruth shouted as the worst pain yet rolled over her like a wave. She clamped down on Harry's hand with her own and heard him yelp, but the urge to push overwhelmed everything. He held her up from behind, giving her a better angle. She panted and moaned, crying out and gasping for breath as she pushed and pushed. The contractions didn't stop, and neither did the pressure.

"Almost there," Beth assured her gently as a weak cry filled the room. Ruth kept pushing and pushing, and suddenly, the weak cry became strong and feisty, and Beth was laying a squirmy, squalling baby in her arms. "There you are, mum – your beautiful daughter. Ten fingers, ten toes, and a healthy set of lungs."

Ruth held the baby and cried in utter relief. She'd been so scared, so terrified, that history would repeat itself and her baby would be stillborn. The baby cried and cried, and Ruth finally whispered, "It's all right, sweetheart – mummy's here. Mummy's here."

Hot tears fell on her shoulder and she looked up at Harry, who was weeping like she'd never seen except when she'd told him about Johanna. But these were happy tears, and she stopped worrying immediately. "Harry, she's perfect," she whispered. "And she's ours."

Beth said, "Harry, you need to call in the cavalry. I think with the delivery of a newborn, we more than get full marks on the exercise."

Harry swiped at his cheeks and said, "My god, I've never been so relieved –"

Ruth pulled him down for a kiss. "You need to take her," she insisted. "I have to finish. Take her to meet the others." She put the baby into his arms and made sure he was holding her correctly.

About fifteen minutes later, she'd destroyed the rest of his office and Beth was trying to seal off the afterbirth in a plastic rubbish bag. Beth looked harrowed, worse for wear. God only knew what Ruth looked like – she was exhausted and didn't care.

Harry came back in with the baby and several medics. "Ruth –"

"I'm so tired," she groaned.

"My office looks like a bomb went off!"

"You should be so lucky," Beth grunted.

"How is she?" Ruth asked one of the medics.

"Seven pounds, fourteen ounces, twenty-two inches long," he replied with a smile. "Looking good on all counts, Mrs. Pearce."

Harry smiled at her and said, "Our darling Zoe is doing just fine."

Ruth rolled her eyes and sighed. "I'm never going to be able to talk you out of calling her Zoe, am I?" When he shook his head, she said, "All right, I won't fight very hard, then."

"See, Zoe, mummy can be reasonable," he said with a smile. "But not when she's very tired, so you must be on your best behavior." The tiny bundle in his arms squeaked, and he reached down to gently stroke her face.

The medics helped Ruth up onto a gurney and one said, "There's an ambulance waiting downstairs to take you all to hospital to be checked over."

"Harry, may I have her back?" Ruth asked. "She'll want to try to nurse soon."

"No more snuggles for daddy," Harry said softly to the baby. "Now it's time for Zoe to go see her mummy, isn't it? Are you hungry, sweetheart?"

Ruth had never seen this tender side of him before, and she had to admit that she loved it. Of course, she loved even more having her daughter in her arms after all this time. "Oh, hello," she whispered, smiling down at Zoe. "You look just like your dad, don't you? Good – you'll be so much prettier than mummy when you're older, my love." She gave the baby a kiss and smiled when Zoe stuck out her tongue and made a noise of protest and discontent. "Shh, mummy's got you now," Ruth murmured. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you." She looked up at Harry and smiled. "Thank you, my love," she whispered. "For everything."

* * *

Once he got the baby to stop crying, Harry was good – more than good. He was content. The worst was past, and now he had a beautiful, tiny person in his arms again. He'd honestly thought that he would be a grandfather at some point and that would be that. But no, he'd met Ruth and fallen head over heels – and they'd made this tiny little girl with her tiny fingers and toes and little button nose and huge blue eyes like her mum's.

"Hullo, sweetheart," he said softly as she gripped his index finger. "You just couldn't wait to meet your mum and me, could you? You had to come in the middle of everything and say hello to everyone, didn't you? That's something your mummy would do, you know." He smiled and said, "I love your mummy more than anything. More than I can ever tell her. And now I have you and I think my heart might explode, I'm so happy."

Lucas and Dimitri were watching him like he might drop her or something awful – but Harry had wrapped her in his suit jacket and he wasn't going to let go. Not of this precious little girl. Not his Zoe. The medics came in and took her long enough to weigh and measure her, but when she started fussing, Harry took her back and cuddled her, soothing her with soft whispers and humming.

"You have a big sister and a big brother," he said softly, "and daddy made a bollocks out of that – they don't even like him anymore. But everything is going to be different for you, Zoe. Mummy and daddy are going to make sure you're happy. I promise." She looked up at him with a confused, crumply face, and he kissed her forehead ever so gently.

He carried the baby back into his office with the medics on his heels. Ruth was pale and looked like she'd been through the wars and back again, but her face lit up when she saw them. "Ruth –"

"I'm so tired," she groaned.

"My office looks like a bomb went off!" Harry exclaimed, thinking of all the fast talking he'd have to do to replace the cushions and the chairs and the -

"You should be so lucky," Beth grunted. She was handing over a bag of – oh god no – no – no – to one of the medics.

"How is she?" Ruth asked, clearly referring to the baby.

"Seven pounds, fourteen ounces, twenty-two inches long," the medic replied with a smile. "Looking good on all counts, Mrs. Pearce."

Harry smiled at Ruth and said, "Our darling Zoe is doing just fine."

Ruth rolled her eyes and sighed. "I'm never going to be able to talk you out of calling her Zoe, am I?" When he shook his head, she said, "All right, I won't fight very hard, then."

"See, Zoe, mummy can be reasonable," he said with a smile. "But not when she's very tired, so you must be on your best behavior." The tiny bundle in his arms squeaked, and he reached down to gently stroke her face. He loved this little girl more with every moment – she looked so much like Catherine had when she was very small, so his genetics were clearly the more dominant ones. But her eyes, those eyes were all Ruth.

The medics helped Ruth up onto a gurney and one said, "There's an ambulance waiting downstairs to take you all to hospital to be checked over."

"Harry, may I have her back?" Ruth asked. "She'll want to try to nurse soon."

"No more snuggles for daddy," Harry said softly to the baby. "Now it's time for Zoe to go see her mummy, isn't it? Are you hungry, sweetheart?" Zoe smacked her lips together and yawned a little.

"Oh, hello," she whispered, smiling down at Zoe. "You look just like your dad, don't you? Good – you'll be so much prettier than mummy when you're older, my love." She gave the baby a kiss and smiled when Zoe stuck out her tongue and made a noise of protest and discontent. "Shh, mummy's got you now," Ruth murmured. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you." She looked up at Harry and smiled. "Thank you, my love," she whispered. "For everything." He'd never seen his wife so very happy before. The simple act of holding the baby they'd both been waiting for for so long had made her blissfully, deliriously happy, and she smiled like the sun shone straight out of her. He didn't think it was possible to love her more, but the way she held their child and treated her like she was the world made him giddily weak. Either that or he was just overtired and overly emotional.

Once they were settled in hospital, Ruth tried to nurse – and Zoe caught on like a house on fire, tugging greedily at her mother's breast. Harry just sat back and watched them bonding, and smiled. "Of course," he said, "two of my favorite girls will have to compete for my attention now."

"No competition," Ruth murmured, looking up at him with a weary smile. "She gets firsts, from both of us." She murmured something almost inaudible and kissed the baby's forehead.

He leaned over and held her hand, kissing her knuckles. "I'm so happy," Harry whispered.

"Mmm," Ruth agreed with a small smile. "Just wait till she's up till all hours and you haven't slept in a week."

"I'll still be happy," he replied.

END PART SEVENTEEN


	18. Chapter 18

Eighteen:  
First Meetings

Ruth spun around the room, doing a flurry of last minute tidying, tucking books back into their piles, making sure the last of Zoe's wash was at least folded and put into baskets – there was so much of it, she could hardly keep up in the first place – and she straightened the blanket on the back of the sofa, wishing the spit up stains would disappear on their own.

Her mother was going to make all kinds of fuss about her lack of housekeeping skills. Right now, Ruth was lucky to be able to keep the baby fed and changed, let alone keep up with the washing, the cooking, and the dusting. Harry was too tired to do any of it, and she hadn't quite gotten desperate enough to get a maid in to do. Harry's indifference to the sudden squalor they were living in was testament to the lack of sleep they were both getting.

Zoe was a bad sleeper, period. She wouldn't take but a five minute nap here or there, and they were lucky if she was down for more than an hour at a time in the night. Ruth was about to tear her hair out and had been snapping at Harry and crying a lot.

She felt worthless, scared, exhausted, and she wanted to give up. Having her mother invite herself over to see the baby and have dinner was the cherry on top of the icing of shame. Especially since she was just ordering in a Chinese because she didn't have the energy to remember how to cook properly.

Zoe woke up from her nap and waved her little arms around, cooing and burbling in her bouncer on the coffee table. Ruth didn't have it in her heart to think that her daughter was being difficult on purpose; it just had to be a side effect of having half of Harry's DNA.

"Well, that was a short rest," Ruth said with a smile as she knelt down onto the baby's level. "Hello, my darling girl – are you going to be good tonight for mummy and daddy? Your Gram is coming over to meet you, and it wouldn't do for you to be bad-tempered, would it? Gram had it easy with mummy – I was a very quiet baby, she says. You, on the other hand, could wake the dead, my love."

Zoe wrinkled her nose and rubbed her eyes with her little fists. Ruth smiled and gave her a kiss. "You're mummy's silly girl," she murmured. "Let's check your nappy and get you a snack."

She'd taken to wearing button-down shirts for easy nursing access; there was nothing feminine or lovely about it. Harry had complained once or twice about her appropriating his shirts on the sly and getting spit up on them because it never came out in the wash. He complained a lot lately. She cried a lot lately. Maybe it came out even somewhere?

She dozed off while Zoe was nursing, only waking up when Harry let himself in. "Where's my little princess?" he called.

"She's having a pig out," Ruth said sleepily. As soon as she heard her daddy's voice, Zoe let go of Ruth's nipple, and milk kind of went all over. Ruth sighed and tried to clean up. She hated that she smelled of baby and sour milk all the time now, rather than the expensive perfume Harry had bought her for their anniversary. She lifted the baby onto her shoulder and patted her back as Zoe squirmed and whimpered. "Come on, sweetheart," Ruth sighed. Her efforts were rewarded with a loud belch and a sudden expelling of spit up.

Good thing she wasn't expecting to look glamorous for her mother. It was hard to look human when you felt like the walking dead covered in baby milk vomit.

Harry came in, tossing the post onto the desk and his briefcase onto the desk chair. "I don't want to discuss work," he said, coming over and pressing a kiss to Ruth's forehead. "How was your day?"

"I did the washing," she said. "And the dishes this morning when she was sleeping. Poor thing's tummy has been upset all day and she's throwing up every time she eats. I called the nurse and she said it's nothing to be worried about as long as there's no fever."

"She might not have the knack for chocolate yet," he teased gently. "Do you, Zoe? Mummy ate a lot of chocolate yesterday and I think it upset your tummy."

"Gee, thanks, Harry," she sighed. "Because blaming me for everything is a sound move." She paused. "By the way, my mother is coming over for dinner. She thinks I've put off introducing you and Zoe long enough and took matters into her own hands."

Harry groaned as he kicked off his shoes. "Really?" he sighed. "I just took my shoes off –"

"Yes, and I'm ordering in Chinese –"

"But now I have to put my shoes and jacket back on and pretend to be presentable –"

"Put your fucking shoes back on and stop whining at me," Ruth snapped. She immediately felt guilty, especially when he just turned and stared at her. "Harry, I'm sorry, but you sound like a five year old right now and I can only mother Zoe at the moment – and not even very well, clearly." She felt an overwhelming urge to burst into tears, and just ran with it.

His arms came around her and Zoe leaned into her neck, burrowing and whimpering. "Ruth, I'm sorry – please don't cry," he sighed. "Let me take her and you go wash up and I'll let your mother in when she arrives."

She passed the baby over and whispered, sniffling, "I feel so overwhelmed and helpless, Harry. I don't know if I'm doing the right thing for her and you making fun isn't helping anything." She swiped away her tears and muttered about hormones and feeling trapped on the crazy train to nowhere.

"I didn't mean to upset you," he said gently, taking her hand and squeezing it. "I am sorry."

"I didn't mean to yell," she whispered.

"I know – don't apologize, though, because I was an arse and I know it," he replied. "Sarcasm isn't working for either of us now – we just both automatically assume the other person was brain damaged at birth."

For whatever reason, the thought of Harry being dropped on his head as an infant made her laugh, and Zoe turned her head to look at her like she'd gone stark raving mad. "Oh, don't you start with me," Ruth sighed, reaching over to tap the baby's little nose very gently. "Be good for daddy."

"She usually is," Harry replied. "Go get ready – is there anything I need to know about your mum before she gets here?"

All of the old hurts started making themselves known and Ruth said, "She's the walker and I'm the doormat to be walked upon. It didn't used to be that way, when my dad was alive, but once he died and she couldn't deal, she just sent me off to boarding school and when I came home, there was a step-dad and a step-brother and I wasn't welcome any longer." She shrugged. "She's very overbearing and used to getting her own way. And her name is Elizabeth – she won't tolerate any permutations of her full name. It's Elizabeth or nothing." She ran her hands through her hair and looked down at the stained shirt that was still hanging wide open. "Oh, fuck, I didn't even – Harry, why didn't you tell me I was still undone?"

"I was enjoying the view," he said with a small smile.

She sighed and said, "Yes, well –" She still didn't move to close the buttons because, to be honest, he hadn't looked at her with so much lustful longing since the day before Zoe was born. She kind of liked it, in an odd way. "Okay, then, I'm going to go change and you're going to cuddle with the little one and welcome my mother to our filthy house."

"I'm cleaning tomorrow," he promised. "You'll be able to eat off the floors."

"You're assuming I could bend over and get something off the floor," she reminded him. "Oh, I'll let Scarlett out – she's been so good today, protecting Zoe." The little dog looked up at Harry with a look that asked if it was okay to leave him alone with the little crying thing.

"Go on, Scarlett – go out," Harry said firmly. "Go with Ruth."

The dog trotted obediently over to Ruth and across the house to go outside. Ruth, for her part, headed upstairs and took a quick shower, washing away the milk and the sour smells. She got redressed in a nice knee-length skirt and one of Harry's old – now milk stained – shirts. She didn't go to much effort with tights or shoes, just something comfortable and not fancy at all. There was no point trying if Zoe was just going to be sick again.

She still had two weeks of leave – she'd taken eight total, attempting to bond with the not-sleeping, constantly screaming little bundle of her and Harry's DNA. She was beginning to wonder if having a child with a man so stubborn and with such a heated temper was a good idea. But she didn't care that much; she loved him, he loved her, and Zoe was squished in the middle between them. Maybe they should stop squishing her and let her find some balance.

Ruth decided against makeup – too much effort. She did spritz on just a touch of perfume, and then took the stairs with speed, hoping to rescue Harry before her mother arrived. By the time she got downstairs, she realized that was rather futile. "Hello, mother, I'm sorry –" she said as she saw Elizabeth sitting primly on one of the arm chairs.

"We were just discussing dinner," Harry replied mildly. "And your mother would prefer curry to Chinese."

"Curry's fine," Ruth said quickly, not wanting to argue. "I see you two have hit it off –"

Elizabeth looked her up and down, then said, "Really, Ruth? You couldn't even have made an effort?"

It took all of five seconds of going to war with herself before Ruth snapped. She grabbed one of the couch cushions and flung it at her mother, then left the room.

Harry's voice rumbled from the sitting room. "She has been spit up on constantly for the last six weeks by a baby who doesn't sleep for shit – I think Ruth is entitled to be cross with you." Zoe began to cry, and Ruth came back in to take her from him. "My love, do you –"

"No, I'm going outside," Ruth said. "You two carry on – it's just time for me to be thrown up on again." She sighed and kissed Zoe's cheek. "Poor little thing. Come on, let's try again – let's try not eating so much this time."

She held Zoe close out on the bench in the garden, looking around at the plants gone wild. She'd forgotten to call the gardener and ask him to come by and prune… just another thing to add to the list of things she'd managed to cock up since the baby was born. Zoe nursed eagerly, looking up at her mother with those big blue eyes that had become an even more striking shade of blue since she'd gotten a bit older. "Sorry, love," Ruth sighed. "Mummy's having such a bad day, isn't she?" She gently stroked the baby's fluffy blonde curls and said, "I'm not cross with you, my love. I promise. I'm just tired and upset. Mummy loves you so much, Zoe."

When Zoe was done, Ruth put her on her shoulder and patted her back. Three gentle burps, and no spit up. Yet. It was a small victory in the bigger war on taking care of things. Apparently, Zoe sensed fear – like a shark – and was much calmer now that Ruth was.

"There's my good girl," Ruth cooed softly. "Are you sleepy? No? Sweetheart, you have to sleep sometime. It's the only way you'll get bigger and stronger. I know you just want to know what's going on all the time – that's what happens when your mum and dad are spooks, I know – but it's okay to rest now and again. You're too young to start a career of spying," she scolded gently. She gently used her fingertips to close Zoe's eyes because the baby was fighting off sleep tooth and nail. "Shh, just rest, my love – mummy's got you safe and sound. Just close your eyes and sleep." She was actually surprised when the baby did just that. Not much was surprising anymore.

She went inside and heard Harry and her mother debating curries and desserts, and she said, "I'd just like saag paneer, melt your balls spicy, if you please, my love. I'm going to go put little miss to bed as she's finally asleep."

Harry stood up and said, "Do you want me to help –"

"No, I've got it," Ruth murmured. "You just order dinner."

She went upstairs and settled into the rocking chair, closing her eyes and listening to Zoe's breathing. "Shh, it's all right," Ruth murmured when the baby's breathing got stronger. "Mummy's got you."

Eventually, she knew Zoe was sound asleep and wasn't going to wake up for a while. It was the first time in weeks, and she was so grateful, she almost cried as she set the baby down in her crib. "You just rest," she murmured, pulling a light blanket over her daughter. "I'll hear you if you cry." She turned the baby monitor on and headed downstairs.

Harry looked up at Ruth and said, "I've made your mother sign the Official Secrets Act. I had to."

Ruth contemplated her mother for a long moment, then said, "I should've done a long time ago." She looked at the woman that looked so much older and more fragile than the last time they'd been together for Christmas – when an argument about the doneness of the goose had led to Ruth going round to Harry's for an intense shag that left them both weak and dizzy with the force of their love. "So… I work for MI-5, not GCHQ like I'd told you. I'm not in IT or Research."

Elizabeth said, "Harry said you're Counter-Terrorism."

Ruth nodded. "Yes, hence the wall of secrets. Why I never told you before. I thought, maybe with a small dose of paranoia, that you might use my position as another reason to be angry with me. Since you've done before."

Elizabeth sighed. "I thought you were wasting your talents going into the civil service –"

"I wasn't," Ruth said softly. "If I hadn't taken that job with GCHQ, I never would have met Harry. I never would have had Zoe." She stopped herself before she could add 'or Johanna'. That wasn't something she was comfortable sharing with her mother, ever.

"Yes, but –"

"Mum," Ruth said very gently, "my contributions to the team are essential. They've been suffering while I've been on leave – don't please ever demean what I do at work." She paused, then said, "I wouldn't have gotten a title had I not been excellent in my service to Queen and Country. And neither would Harry." She looked up at him with a small smile.

"I suppose you'll tell me next that it's not dangerous, what you do…"

"Oh no, it's very dangerous," Ruth said. "At times. Not round the clock, mind you, but the security system here at home is state of the art because the last thing we need is a looney attempting to take Zoe to punish us."

"And you just… take this in stride?" Elizabeth asked anxiously.

Ruth and Harry shared a look that was meant to have an eye roll attached, but that might have been too flippant and send Elizabeth off on a rampage. "Well, it's part of the job, isn't it? Danger, adventure, a healthy dose of sex," Ruth said sarcastically. "Seriously, mum, it's fine. We're fine. Harry takes good care of us and I do my best to give him correct information so he can protect us. Don't you worry so much about us."

Elizabeth thought on that for a moment, then nodded. "He's older than I would've liked for you," she commented.

"Older, but not wiser," Harry said. "I leave the wisening to Ruth."

"My love, that's not even a word," Ruth said with a smile.

"See?" Harry said, squeezing her hand. "Invaluable asset, this one, for many things."

"Don't lay it on too thickly," Ruth murmured. "I'm not as valuable as all that. Clearly, I'm rubbish at tidying – and even worse at cooking lately."

"It's been ages since I've had a curry," Elizabeth said. "I'm not upset about take-away or whether or not your house is tidy. I'm upset that you've shut me out –"

"You pushed me away," Ruth said. "What was I meant to do? Come crawling back to you asking for forgiveness when I'd done nothing to you in the first place? Do you still blame me for surviving the car crash when Daddy didn't?" She wished the words hadn't slipped out of her mouth. But now that they'd been said, all of the hurt of keeping it inside was gone.

"I – I never –" Elizabeth sighed and said, "Ruth, I said that in a moment of anger and grief – I never thought you'd carry it with you like this."

"Of course not," Ruth said. "Because you were so wrapped up in your own grief and pain to notice that I was foundering. And then you pushed me away so you wouldn't have to deal with it. I understand better than you know, mum. Of course I've carried that with me all this time – it shaped me in ways you can never comprehend. I became invisible so you wouldn't have to see me, hate me more, so you wouldn't have to deal with it. I gave you what you wanted, and now you want things to be different because I have a love and a life and a child – and it's not how things work, is it? You don't just get over thirty years of being stomped on by someone who's meant to love you."

"Ruth," Harry said gently, directing her attention back to him. "Your mother feels genuinely contrite."

"Yes, and I feel genuinely wronged – and I have never, ever voiced it," Ruth said with force. "Not until now. Because if she wants to be a part of our daughter's life, I need to know that she understands what she's done to me. So she won't do it to Zoe."

Elizabeth said, "I was the best mother I could be, given the –"

"No," Ruth said very quietly. "Blaming me for the crash, sending me off so you wouldn't have to deal with me… That's not mothering. That's denial and shame, whether of you or me, it no longer matters. Do you have any idea how many times I've blamed myself for Daddy dying? Every day, at least once, thanks to you. Do you know how many times I should have blamed myself? None. I was in the back seat, reading. The man ran an intersection. I was in hospital for three months and daddy died. Harry finally made me see – forced me to see – that it was nothing to do with me at all, that it was all in my head that it was my fault."

"It was never your fault," Elizabeth said, her voice low and said. "I was wrong, so very wrong, for saying that. I was upset; I never meant to take it out on you, but… things happened."

"Yes, they did," Ruth agreed. "And it drove a wedge between us."

The doorbell buzzed and Harry got up. "You two continue, I'll be right back with dinner," he said, leaving the room.

Elizabeth said, "I suppose you want me out of your life."

"No, I want you to be here as Zoe's Gram," Ruth said, sighing. "Harry's mum died a while back, and she needs someone, you know… even if I'm not fond." She looked up at her mother. "So I'll try to be good and let you be a part of her life, mum. But knowing how deeply you can hurt from personal experience, if you ever do anything to my daughter like you did to me, I will cut off all ties so fast your head will spin."

"I… accept that," Elizabeth said.

Harry came back in with several bags of food. "Excellent chap, bringing it around for us," he said with a large smile. "Now – Ruth, I know you didn't mean melt your balls spicy because the baby can't handle that –"

She sighed. "Harry, she's used to spicy already," she complained. "She's just not used to chocolate."

He winked at her and gave her a quick kiss. "I know," he teased gently. "Let me go get forks."

They ate mostly in silence, aside from Elizabeth's questions about their marriage and their health, among other things. Ruth kept eyeing the baby monitor, knowing that it would go off at any moment with a screaming baby, so she ate quickly, wolfing down her curry so fast she couldn't even taste it.

And, just as she'd thought, pretty much as soon as she'd cleared the container, the monitor flared to life with Zoe's discontent. "That'll be a nappy change and cuddles for me," Ruth said, getting up and heading out faster than Harry could react.

Ruth ran upstairs and scooped up Zoe, soothing her. "Yes, I know, darling," she murmured. "Wet nappies are awful things, aren't they?" She changed the baby's diaper and settled her down by cuddling her tight against her shoulder. "Do you want to meet your Gram, sweetheart? Come on, let's go downstairs and meet Gram."

She came downstairs with the baby in her arms, and Harry smiled. "There's my little Zoe – did you miss Daddy today?"

Zoe squealed excitedly and flailed her little arms around, kicking out with her legs, too.

"Oh, come on now," Ruth sighed. "She's meant to be meeting Mum, not playing peek-a-boo with you."

"I don't see why she can't do both," he replied. "She might be more receptive to Elizabeth after she's had a bit of daddy time –"

"Or she'll be off her head upset," Ruth pointed out. "And mummy will have to rescue her." She headed over to her mother and said, "Mum, this is Zoe Frances Rosalind Pearce, better known as the screamer in the middle of the night. Would you care to hold her?"

Elizabeth reached up and gently took the baby into her arms. "Oh, she's precious," she said softly. "She's definitely got your eyes – your father's eyes."

Ruth smiled sadly. "Yes, but all the rest of her – including her temper – is all Harry."

"Hey, now," Harry scoffed. "You're the one who does nasty things when she's cross…"

"Yes, but you put people in danger when you're upset," she retorted. "I just might scramble their banking information and transfer all their money to a slush fund."

"She's lovely, no matter who she takes after," Elizabeth interjected. "I never thought to see the day my Ruth would have a little one of her own." Zoe just looked up at the lady that looked so much like her mummy, and Ruth wondered if, one day, the motion would be repeated with her own grandchildren. "Hello, Zoe – I'm your Gram. When you get a little bigger, I'll teach you how to dance beautifully."

Ruth sighed. "Mum, she'll probably be just like me – klutzy and cross."

"I'll try anyway," Elizabeth said gently. "You did quite well with the Chicken Dance."

"Oh god," Ruth mumbled in shame, hanging her head. "Why must you always bring that up?"

"Because I love you," Elizabeth said, "and it was the best part of you and your dad – dancing the Chicken Dance in the sitting room and trying to outdo each other."

Ruth nodded sadly and brushed back tears. "God, I'm sorry – "

"No, I'm sorry," Elizabeth murmured. "You have no idea how much so."

Zoe kicked her feet and started moving around, trying to see Harry. "Oh, looks like she's ready for daddy cuddles now," he commented. "Come to daddy, my little girl," he said excitedly, taking her gently from Elizabeth and putting her right onto his shoulder. She squirmed a little and grunted happily, tucking into his neck and shoulder. "Yes, that's it."

Ruth smiled at her mother and said, "He's got a magic touch with her, but we still can't get her to sleep."

"You were awful about sleeping," Elizabeth said. "I thought your father and I would go mad the first few weeks. And then one day, you just got so tired you slept all night and that was that."

"See," Harry said with a smile, "there is hope."

Ruth said, "Dear lord, the child is just like us. I don't think the world will be able to cope. Not when she's three and thinks that daddy will blow up Russia to get her some snow."

Harry laughed. "Never – I would only ask very kindly for someone to ship a rail car of snow from Scotland."

Elizabeth said, "I can see even in your weariness, you love each other very much."

"Of course we do," Ruth said. "We don't stop loving each other just because we're tired and cranky. It doesn't work like that, mum. Harry and me… we're… we're like… I don't know."

"We're happy," Harry supplied mildly, nuzzling Zoe. "Aren't we, princess? Mummy and daddy are quite happy." The baby cooed and reached up to scratch his face with her little nails. He clearly didn't mind, as he made no move to stop her.

Later, when Elizabeth was gone and they were alone in bed, the baby having settled for one of her infamous naps, Harry said, "I think she wants to try, Ruth. To make things better. Like I want to try for my children – I've called Catherine and she's coming by the next time she's in the country."

Ruth cuddled up against him and nodded. "Good," she whispered.

"I'm proud of you, love," he whispered. "You were honest."

"Then why do I feel so much like shit?" Ruth wondered aloud.

END PART EIGHTEEN


	19. Chapter 19

Author's note: I blame work for my inability to really turn out a chapter during the weekend. Evil work. And being rather sick from my medicines. I apologize, and leave this in penance.

* * *

Nineteen:  
First Family

She knew without looking that it was Harry calling. "We're fine," she assured him. "Your daughter loves shiny things at market, though – we'll have to nip that in the bud when she's older."

Harry chuckled and said, "A magpie like her mum?"

"Come now," Ruth said, "you could present me with all the diamonds in the world, but without a kiss and you to warm my bed, there's no point in having them."

She could hear him smiling. "Has she taken a nap?" he asked.

"Zoe is soundly out," Ruth said. "I've been interviewing nannies right and left… no one seems suitable. I could just be too picky – "

"No, not at all," he assured her gently. "All things considered, I would be very upset if you weren't highly selective. She's a valuable asset, our Zoe, and others might see the same way."

Ruth sighed and murmured, "I'm very anxious about leaving her alone with someone."

"I know," he replied. Then he sighed. "So, uh, I'm going to pick up dinner on the way home – we're going to have visitors tonight."

She paused in her folding of the sheet in her hands. "Oh?" she said cautiously. "Not Towers again, please?"

"No, actually… Catherine is in town for a few days and I said she was welcome to stay with us. She's not going to, obviously – she's staying with a friend – but she's picking up Graham and bringing him round tonight for dinner." There was a long silence, then he said, "I'm sorry to spring it upon you like this –"

"No, no, it's all right," Ruth said hurriedly. "I'm pleased, actually. I'd love them to meet Zoe."

"So would I," he said.

"So I'll clean up a bit and I've got one more nanny interview and… we'll have dinner with your kids, then," Ruth said. "Harry, what's wrong?" she added when he was still very quiet.

"I haven't told Catherine that I've remarried. Or that we have Zoe."

That gave Ruth pause. "Oh?"

"I thought it would be too delicate a subject," he admitted quietly. "God knows she and I barely get along as it is – how would it be if I told them…"

"So we're just going to spring it on them, then?" she asked, laughing slightly. "Oh, Harry… the things you get me into." Zoe whimpered in her sleep and she immediately whirled her attention to the playpen. When nothing happened, Ruth said, "I love you, you crazy man. And tonight will be okay, I promise. They'll have no choice but to love our Zoe, right?"

"Right," he said firmly.

"And I'll be there to make sure you don't put your foot too firmly in it, eh?" she teased. "Is that all I'm good for, Sir Harry?"

There was a long pause, then he said, "Well, no, there's that thing you do –"

She smirked and held back a giggle. "Which thing do I do, my love? I do many things."

"That thing with your tongue –"

"Oh, the one you got treated to last night?" she asked impishly.

"Yes, that's the one."

"I knew you only kept me for sex," Ruth accused good-naturedly. "Silly man."

"Oh, if we carry off tonight, I will definitely be reciprocating," he said, his voice a deep rumble that made her knees go to jelly.

She sat down and said, "Well, I have been cleared by the doctor to resume activity, so…"

"Oh good," he sighed.

"Hey, you, behave," she scolded. "You've been getting yours. Maybe not the way you wanted, but at least it's me getting you off and not just you and your hand."

"Yes, but I've wanted to be –"

"I know," she murmured. "I wasn't fit for it yet, and besides… every time Zoe nurses, it triggers things. I feel like I'm always on the edge of orgasm. Might be nice to actually do something about it."

"Tonight, then," he promised, his voice dry and raspy.

"Oh yes," she agreed. "So, what am I going to feed your kids? Should I make a pasta or –"

He cleared his throat, sounding glad for the conversation shift. "I was going to pick up take away from Schiparelli's – Marco owes me a favor for the last time we had to run in the middle of dinner to deal with that bomb threat and I gave him a hundred pounds for a bottle of wine and breadsticks and didn't wait for the change. He's already got our order and it'll be ready at six for me to pick it up."

She chuckled. "All right, then – shall I put out the good china?"

"I don't care," he said. "Neither will the kids, I don't think."

"Well, it might be nice," she said. "My grandmother's set – the one with the flowers, not your chippy set," she teased. "Though I am going to start looking for replacement pieces for that, mind you – so if strange debits come in from the auction houses, I might be collecting."

"Evil woman," he teased. "Is Zoe still asleep?"

"Yeah, it finally happened just like mum said it did with me – she just snapped and started sleeping, I guess." She smiled over at the little girl in her bouncy seat with Scarlett at her feet and Fidget curled up on her lap. "Fidget is cuddling with her. I should take a photo and send it over."

"Please do," he said. "I'm about to go mad over here and a sense of normal would be welcome."

"Well, you're getting laid tonight," Ruth said frankly, "so normalcy restored!" Before he could say anything else, she hung up, laughing aloud at the idea of him thinking she was being snarky instead of building up his anticipation of the actual event. She took a photo with her phone and sent it over to him with a caption of 'the new normal', and went back to cleaning up for company.

* * *

Harry was actually nervous, though he'd never admit it to anyone – let alone Ruth. She could read him like a book most days, anyway. He rarely held back from her now, except the secrets that he had to keep; the classified ones, the ones that kept him glued together. He hadn't told her about his time in Berlin, but he supposed at some point, he must. She knew from his personnel files, but she didn't know what lay between the lines, the hurt and bitterness he still carried with him like strings binding his bits together. Jane hadn't known the truth, but he felt compelled to tell Ruth – probably because she was far more important to him than Jane had ever been, and that's why it terrified him so to admit his failings. Berlin might be the insurmountable obstacle between them.

He exhaled and finished laying out the silverware and the glasses, adjusting the napkins. Ruth had insisted that they use the good china, the good glasses, the lovely floral brocade napkins that had been a gift from Ros when they'd sprung their marriage on the team – even though the napkins meant more cleaning for her in the end. He'd not wanted to go to any trouble, but she was insistent that she show his kids that she was capable of good things.

He kind of liked the mother hen that she'd become, but the concept was a bit alien still. She puttered at home, making things so much lovelier, and he sometimes wished that she would give up the Grid to stay here with Zoe, to make this house a real home. But she would return to work and this fragile bubble of bliss would pop.

She came into the room, tying off her dress. "Does this look okay?" she asked, gesturing at the plain navy dress that wrapped around all of her curves and fit very snugly against her breasts. "I can change if it doesn't – it feels a bit tight up top."

He licked his lips and tried not to sound crass as he said, "Well… my pants feel a bit tight, but you look lovely."

She tried to hide a smile. "Well, you've put on weight since the baby came – we'll have to work on that," she teased, blushing a little. "You should behave in front of the kids, though," she warned. "Especially since they don't know how we are together."

He was about to say something, but the baby monitor flared to life with Zoe's little fussing. "Sounds like she's hungry," he commented.

"Oh, you're getting better at this," she replied, coming over and giving him a kiss. "One day, you'll be kissing her boo-boos as she knocks into things and you'll wish she was this small again. I think I'm going to panic as soon as she's walking." Ruth took off upstairs to get the baby.

He went back to setting out the pan of lasagna, the salad, and the breadsticks. Marco had sent a huge tiramisu and his congratulations on the birth of their daughter, so dessert was covered. But the wine was non-alcoholic, seeing as how Ruth was still nursing, and Graham was a recovering addict and Harry didn't want to add to his troubles.

Truth in hand, he was incredibly terrified about seeing his son. The last time they'd seen one another, it had been a spectacular disaster – an intervention that had sent him into rehab and they'd not spoken since. He wondered, really, what tonight would be like. Hard, probably. He'd warned Ruth of the possibility of needing the police to come round and sort things out, and she'd promised to keep her cell close just in case. He was hoping it wouldn't come to that, but the tension was there.

The doorbell buzzed and he felt like he was going to burst into a cold sweat. He brushed it off – if he could face down the PM or have dinner with the Royal Family, as happened from time to time, he could handle dinner with his children, for god's sake!

"I'm coming, I'm coming," he shouted as he came to the door and they leaned on the bell again. He opened the door and said, "I'm sorry, I was finishing the table –"

Catherine smiled sheepishly up at him. "Sorry, dad, but it's raining again."

He gestured for them to come in and they got their rainjackets off and their wet shoes, as well. "Hello," Harry said awkwardly, waiting for them to make the first move. He couldn't do more than just stand there and look at them. Catherine's hair was longer than it had been the last time he'd seen her, and she'd put on a touch of weight – not waif thin anymore, which was good. She looked less fragile, like the world had tossed her about and now she was really living.

Graham, on the other hand, looked like a Greek god brought to life – definitely cut of the same cloth as Harry had been in his misspent youth. His hair was more red than blonde – Jane's contribution – and Graham had a spattering of freckles across his nose, but he was tall, thin, sculpted beneath his shirt. It was strange how time changed them all.

"Hello," Graham said.

"So," Catherine said, "there are two cars in the drive and I parked behind the sedan –"

"Uh, yes, the sedan is Ruth's," Harry said. "If anyone needs to leave, we'll be taking the Rover. Thank you, Catherine."

"Ruth?" Graham said.

"You said we could come round and meet Ruth," Catherine said, her eyes twinkling. "I thought Ruth was the new dog or the housekeeper or something –"

"Ah, no," Harry said, looking down at his feet for a moment. "Ruth is my…"

"Girlfriend?" Graham supplied hollowly.

"Ruth is my everything," Harry corrected. "We're properly wed, but that shouldn't matter. I would love her the same way even if we hadn't exchanged vows and rings."

"Oh," Graham said. "How long have you…"

Harry shrugged a little. "We've known each other over nine years now; married for eight."

Catherine raised an eyebrow. "So you were married when you were investigating me, and you didn't bother to say?"

He put his hands up in the air in surrender. "We hadn't told anyone at that point," he said in a gentle, soothing tone that he'd perfected from all of the squabbles during Ruth's pregnancy. "Not even our superiors at work, so it was a state secret at the time. I was afraid you would be more upset and I didn't want to upset the balance. I am sorry."

Catherine regarded him for a moment, then said, "You're forgiven, but if she's a harridan, my advice is to drop her like a hot potato and find a nice girl instead."

Harry laughed. "Oh, no, believe me, that will never happen." He looked up at Graham and said, "So, how are you?"

Graham said, "Clean and sober ten years. I volunteer with the rehab program three days a week and I'm nannying for a posh couple in High Wycombe in the evenings."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Nannying?"

"I like kids, and a certification was part of my rehab – but the family's moving to Manchester in a few weeks, so I'll be looking for a new position soon," he admitted. "Money's not bad. And I've never been tempted to use again when I've been taking care of someone else's kids."

Harry nodded slowly, listening to the uncertain words of his son, as if his father would judge him harshly based solely on them. "I'm glad you're doing well," he said. "Why don't we go and relax until Ruth comes down? I've got a bottle of non-alcoholic wine ready."

Catherine smiled. "That's very considerate, dad –"

"Ah, yes, that's all we've been stocking lately," Harry said awkwardly. "So it's nothing special." He guided them past the dark sitting room – where Ruth had left the washing baskets all over the sofa again – and into the dining room.

"Oh, dad, you shouldn't have gone to so much trouble!" Catherine exclaimed, seeing the simple splendor lain out before her.

"We want you both to feel welcome," Harry said hesitantly. "So the nice china and the good silverware and things."

He heard Ruth walking around above them, knowing that she was pacing in circles as she burped Zoe. He'd already turned off the baby monitor, but he also knew that if it had been on, she would be singing softly and the baby would be making small noises that were only made by her.

He poured wine, listening to his kids talk animatedly about their lives. He knew the details on Catherine – she had a protective agent, now, though he'd never tell her that the man she'd met in Cairo and fallen in love with was one of the agents from Section A. He trusted Ben, and they had an understanding that if anything happened to Catherine, his head would end up on a spike in front of the Tower.

Ruth came into the room with Zoe in the crook of her left elbow and the bouncer in her right hand. She set the bouncer on the counter and quickly strapped the baby into it. "Okay, there's daddy," Ruth said. "Now will you relax a bit, please?" She put a pacifier into Zoe's mouth and gave her a kiss. "Good girl," she murmured as the baby settled.

Catherine was just sitting there, gaping. Graham had a similar expression on his face, but his mouth was actually closed. Harry just tried to look non-plussed.

Ruth spun around on her heel and came over to give him a kiss on the cheek, but it left Harry blushing – something out of the ordinary. "Hello, I'm Ruth," she said, turning to the gawping young adults across the table. "I suppose you weren't expecting me… or Zoe. Your father is bad at communication, which is rather ironic given his job."

Harry's lips twitched up at the right corner; she always seemed to know what to say to unruffle feathers, even in the most awkward situations. This certainly qualified as one of those situations.

"I remember you," Catherine said. "From the office –"

"Ah, yes," Ruth said, nodding. Harry supposed she was remembering how many loose ends he'd been at during that operation, trying to keep Catherine safe. He'd been needy and desperate at the time, but she'd been perfectly content to oblige him and stay over and let him maul her with his klutzy frustration. It hadn't been their finest hour, but they had many of those filed away with the blissful nights of ignoring the world and making love. "Your hair was much shorter then," Ruth said with a small smile.

"How old is… my sister?" Graham asked cautiously.

Ruth smiled at him and said, "Seven weeks. She's finally sleeping the night, so Harry and I have been getting a bit of rest – otherwise, I think I'd be crying and throwing things now. Not a very good hostess. Come to think of it, I've been a dreadful hostess already, being upstairs with the baby when you arrived…"

"Dad's been handling things well," Catherine said with a small smile.

"Oh, good," Ruth exhaled in relief. She settled into the empty chair next to Harry and picked up her wine glass. "So, do you have any questions for me? Aside from the obvious one about our age difference – fourteen years, and it doesn't matter because we love one another most dearly." She squeezed Harry's hand under the table.

Harry glanced over at her and smiled. She was certainly handling this better than he was.

"How did you meet?" Graham asked.

"Work," Harry said.

Ruth said, "See what I mean about communication?" She patted Harry's leg fondly, and he felt his heartbeat increase. "I was seconded from GCHQ to Counter-Terrorism at MI-5 – your father's department. I'm an informational analyst, translator, and I do a bit of tech, too."

"A bit of tech?" Harry echoed.

She shrugged. "I'm only meant to hand you files, dear heart."

Harry rolled his eyes. Even in the beginning, she'd been anything but the file clerk. The first time he'd seen her, juggling her files and had made that awful joke about her being the intelligence analyst, she'd taken his breath away. He'd chosen her from all of the candidates because she seemed the most likely to fit the department's needs. He'd not realized at the time that she fit every need he'd ever had – and more. He exhaled lowly, listening to his family talk around them, and suddenly realized that he'd been very passive, deep in thought, just letting her control the flow of food and conversation.

He dutifully ate his salad, and then he snapped, getting up abruptly. He felt everyone watching him as he got up and freed Zoe from the bouncy seat. "There's my girl," he said softly but gruffly, smiling down at her. "I wasn't ignoring you, I promise." Zoe spit out her pacifier – he caught it before it hit the floor – and he almost missed her enormous, guileless baby smile. His smile grew, and he tapped her nose, making her giggle. He sat back down at the table and said, "Much better."

Ruth laughed softly and said, "Yes, well, she missed you, too."

Harry looked up at his older children and explained, "I usually hold her when we're eating, so Ruth can eat. It felt awkward to have her up on the counter while we enjoy dinner." Zoe tugged on his tie and drew it into her mouth, gnawing on it. He'd given up caring about his ties – they were irresistible to the baby… and to Ruth. Magpies, the lot of them.

"She's very lovely," Catherine spoke up. "But aren't you both a little… old… to be starting a family now?"

Ruth paused, and Harry's throat constricted. She began to say something, but he ran straight in. "We… we started earlier, but there was an accident and Johanna, your sister, was stillborn," he said softly. "Zoe wasn't planned – in fact, I tried very hard to not get Ruth pregnant – but she is very much wanted and loved, nonetheless." He shifted the baby to give her a kiss. "Aren't you, my love?" Zoe cooed and giggled, still sucking on his tie.

Ruth smiled sadly over at him and said, "Yes, very much so. Especially now that I've gotten some sleep the last few nights and don't feel like I'm drowning in dirty nappies and spit up."

Graham laughed and said, "The family I nanny for has a 10 month old – I remember those days all too well, and I'm just the help."

"You're a nanny?" Ruth asked, surprised.

Graham paused, suddenly hesitant. "Yes," he said. "Is there a problem with that?"

"No, not at all – I just thought… well, your father said that the last time he saw you –"

"I was a very different person then," Graham said. "Once I got clean, things just started to work out better for me. I am certified and things, so if you need a sitter…"

"I need a nanny," Ruth said bluntly. "I'm due to go back to work next week and I need a nanny – no one that's been vetted seems to connect with her. She just looks at them like they're stupid. And I suppose they are because they aren't mummy or daddy. I was going to see if Malcolm could watch her, but that would be too much – I mean, he's her godfather, but lord above, he barely knows which way is the right end of the nappy."

"Malcolm?" Catherine spoke up. "You made Malcolm her godfather? Who's her godmum?"

"A lovely woman called Beth," Harry spoke up. "She delivered Zoe and had been staying here with us until a few weeks before the baby was born."

"Oh," Catherine said softly. "What do you mean she delivered her?"

"We were at work during a drill," Ruth tried to explain, "and I was in labor all day before I lost control and just… had the baby in your father's office."

"Speaking of, the new cushions finally came in," Harry said mildly. "No more blood splatter to horrify the DG and the HS when they come by."

Ruth blushed and said, "Yes, well… I'm sorry that I ruined your office and didn't put it to rights."

Zoe blew a bubble and Harry laughed. "I think I can forgive you, Mrs. Pearce," he said. "But don't ever do it again."

"Oh, never," she said cheerfully, leaning over and giving him a kiss. She tasted of salad dressing, garlic, wine, and bread. Not that he was complaining – she always tasted delicious.

"Can I hold her?" Graham asked.

"Of course," Ruth said as Harry said, "Are you certain?"

Graham laughed. "She's a baby – babies need holding. And she's my sister, isn't she? Someone's got to tell her what a crazy old sod her dad is."

Catherine smothered a laugh, trying to look serious. Harry rolled his eyes and sighed. "All right, come here," he said gruffly. He looked down at Zoe and said, "Now, your brother wants to hold you, sweetheart – will you be a good girl for him?" He tried to plug the pacifier back into Zoe's mouth, but she wasn't having any of that. She spit it back out just as fast, sending it straight to the floor. Ruth got it and headed to the sink to wash it up.

Graham came over and picked Zoe up out of Harry's grip, gently holding her up and looking at her full-on. "Hi, Zoe," he said with a small smile. "I'm Graham, your big brother. You can call me Gee, when you get bigger, okay? That'll be easy to say, won't it?" Harry watched his daughter regard his son with wide eyes, then her serious concentration face – the one that she'd inherited from Ruth – broke and was replaced with a squeal and a smile as she reached out and slapped at Graham's face clumsily. For his part, Graham took the baby's beating in stride – and with a smile.

Ruth gave Harry a look – a significant Look – and said, "Graham, is there any way at all that I could entice you to work for us as Zoe's nanny? Like I said, no one else is working out –"

He smiled and nodded. "Very easily," he said.

"He hasn't been vetted," Harry said.

"Harry," Ruth said warningly, "he's your son. What are the family paying you now?"

"Fifteen quid an hour," Graham replied.

Ruth squinted and looked at him. "I'll give you room and board, food allowance, and a salary of twenty-six thousand," she said. "But you'll be on call all the time, like we are – and anything you need, just ask."

"Well, that sounds reasonable –"

"How soon could you start?" she asked.

"Ruth," Harry tried to interject.

She turned and glared at him. "You shut up," she said. "It's my money gone to pay the nanny anyway, and Zoe hasn't smiled once when they've picked her up during the interviews. He's certified, he's got skills – obviously – and she likes him. What more do we need?"

Catherine laughed. "Dad, she's smarter than she looks."

"She looks pretty intelligent to me," Graham spoke up. Harry glanced over and Zoe had her little hands wrapped around his finger, cooing and smiling. "I can see where Zoe gets her brains."

"And that's the kind of comment I would be walking into every day," Harry sighed.

Ruth smiled a little. "Yes, well, it stings because you know it's true," she teased.

He scowled at her. "Ruth, play fair. I might be a bit slower than you, but I have the wisdom of experience at my right hand…"

"No, love, you've got me at your right hand," she murmured. "And don't forget it."

His scowl disappeared. "Yes, I suppose you're right," he agreed.

"There is no suppose about it," she said, squeezing his hand. "You went to bits while I was gone, and we both know it." She gave him a quick kiss, then went back to her food. After a bite, she said, "So, Graham, when can you start?"

"I can…" Graham paused, then said, "I'll give my notice tomorrow and make arrangements for Monday – I'll break the lease on my flat and just… move in, I guess."

She smiled. "It's nice to know that I'm better with communication than your father," Ruth teased mildly. "Zoe, what do you think of that? Graham wants to take care of you while mummy and daddy are at work. Do you like that, sweetheart?"

Zoe burbled and blew a bubble or two, then went back to clutching Graham's t-shirt.

Harry wasn't sure that any of this was a good idea. Not really. Graham hadn't been vetted. Ruth just ran rough-shod over his objections… But seeing his son carefully holding his younger sister, talking to her about what fun they would have together, did his heart a world of good. It was obvious that he already cared for her and that he would comfort and protect her. Maybe it was all in his head.

He was, however, fairly certain that Ruth was annoyed with him.

* * *

Harry was already lounging around in his underwear when Ruth came out of the bathroom, rubbing lotion into her hands. "You look like you're expecting something," she said.

"Yes, I was promised favors of a sexual nature this evening," he replied.

She said, "Oh, really? I seem to remember saying merely that I might be so inclined, not promising my pussy was yours for the taking." Oh yes, she was going to make him miserable. And then she was going to give him what he wanted, because she wanted it – him – too.

"Are you cross with me?" he asked, wounded.

"Yes, a little," Ruth said dryly. "Your son is a perfect fit for Zoe's caretaker, but you just have to be Harry and stick your foot in it and try to stir shit up. Graham needs a second chance with you, and it's clear he already loves Zoe, just from tonight. Yes, he'll be living here and you'll run across times when it won't be easy to be in the same room together, but that doesn't diminish the fact that it needs to happen, Harry. Life isn't easy – it's very hard." She had her hands on her hips, her dressing gown the only barrier between them. She hadn't even bothered putting nightclothes on, knowing that he'd just tear them off in his haste to get at her.

"You don't have to tell me how hard life is, Ruth! I've been right up in its face all this time – and this is where our fourteen years' age difference comes in," he hissed.

She tilted her chin defiantly. "Are you calling me a child?" she asked, her voice low and dangerous. "Because it's been a damn long time since I was a slip of a girl, Harry."

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she remembered a teacher – history, wasn't it? – that had only been there for a few months… he'd looked so much like – And her mouth grew hard, lips drawn into a thin line.

"I know," he said, raising his hands in defeat. "I know, Ruth."

"Mr. Hayworth," she added caustically.

He stared at her. "Shit," he muttered.

"Yeah, I was stupid," she snapped. "I almost forgot that I had the most enormous crush on him, didn't I? Always had to get the right answer… always wanted his praise, his attention…"

"That was a hell of an op," Harry grumbled. "Surrounded by schoolgirls trying to get one over on me – there was one of the hockey players that tried to seduce me. It was all very awkward and I was glad to go."

"Fifth period history," she said, her voice very cold. "I had much longer hair then. And all I wanted was for you to fucking smile at me – that's all."

"I did," he said. "Didn't I?"

"Once," she said, very quietly. "Stupid girl I was, I thought that if it never came again, I'd at least had that smile once."

He got up and crossed the room before she could move, kissing her with a passion that made her insides catch fire and her toes curl into the rug. "It's all yours," he promised softly. "All of it, all of me – the good bits and the bad. Yours, Ruth."

She pulled him back in for another deep, hungry kiss, her hands slipping under the waistband of his boxers, his hands struggling to free the knot of her dressing gown's sash. Once they'd undressed each other, all bets were off. They went at it like kids, all gratification, no patience. By the time he was fully sheathed inside her, Ruth was gasping for breath and coming down from an incredible high. He was concentrating very hard, and she knew he was struggling not to come right then and there. Abstinence was not their strong suit. Not at all.

She pulled him down for a kiss and breathed, "Harry, let go. Don't worry – there will be many other times." He groaned and lifted her hips, pumping into her, building them both up toward nirvana. Each kiss, each whispered promise, they meant so much more than could be imagined.

It was fast, sweaty, and they were both left battered, raw, and blissfully happy.

"I suppose it won't be bad to have him around," Harry mumbled sleepily. "And Zoe likes him."

"Mmmhmm," she agreed.

He said, "And I remember you now. The pretty girl in the back that knew every answer." He smiled down at her and whispered, "My smile is yours, Ruth Evershed. Always."

END PART NINETEEN


	20. Chapter 20

Author's note: This chapter is dark. Pitch black. I'm sorry, but... yeah, there it is.

* * *

Twenty:  
First Forfeit

She struggled, fought Lucas with what little strength that she had, but it was no good. He had her tied and in the back of a van within a minute of stealing her from the surveillance vehicle. The gag was choking her, and tasted a bit like feet. The binds were cutting into her skin, but she knew after last week's incident with her killing a man… he was just being wary. He clearly wanted her quiet and restrained. She wanted to be loud and free. Somewhere, there was going to be a problem.

Ruth was pretty sure that if she had a gun, she wouldn't hesitate to take a kill shot. As it was, she was just tied up like a hog in the back of his van. His end game couldn't possibly be anything good. She was fairly sure what his endgame was, and she forced back a wave of nausea at the thought that Harry might actually give him what he wanted, just to save her.

"Simple and clean, Harry – a straight swap. Albany for Ruth. Today, or you'll never find the body."

She whimpered, hearing the finality, the brutality in Lucas's voice as he continued to counter Harry on the phone. It was over, then. She was lost.

It wasn't that she didn't have anything to fight for. God no – Zoe was starting to sit up by herself and there was a new puppy that needed training and she had to tell Harry that they needed a second crib… No, it was so much more complicated than just them. Than anything that they believed to be true and just and good. He couldn't give Lucas what he wanted without violating everything that he had ever believed in.

She would rather die than see him suffer a lack of moral compass. It wasn't about her; it was about the safety of the world as a whole. And if he couldn't see that, if he was stupid enough to do what Lucas asked, he wasn't the Harry she loved so desperately.

In the very pit of her stomach, she knew he would come for her. She just hoped that she didn't have to face him when he did.

* * *

She wasn't frightened, just stared him down. "You'd really kill me then? How? How would you do it, Lucas?" She tried to keep her breathing calm, keep everything calm.

"Bullet to the back of the head," he rasped with slight hesitation.

At least he was honest about one thing. She kept on, persisted, trying to change his mind, but the words were futile. He grabbed her by the shoulders, all but slammed her back down into a seated position and said, "I've spent half my life hiding. I've been so careful. There's only been one person I was worried would find out. It's you."

Ruth's heart sank, knowing that she was utterly, completely lost now. He was unwavering in his intent to destroy everything for love – and he was determined to take Harry down the same path. She had nothing left to lose. "Lucas, I'm pregnant," she whispered. "Harry doesn't know. Please, if there's any shred of decency left in you… let me go. Please. If you kill me, no power in heaven or on earth will keep Harry from finding you and killing you."

"I know," Lucas said, ruffling her hair.

He smiled, but there was no kindness in his eyes, only darkness.

Now, now she was afraid.

Ninety minutes felt like ninety years. Harry, sodding damn fool, had Albany and was going to take it to Lucas. She hurt everywhere from being jostled in the van, then being treated less than cautiously by Lucas. She'd been stone-faced ever since Lucas had asked her why she and Harry were so intent on bringing another child into the world when it was only a place of suffering and pain.

Was he so far gone that he'd forgotten simple joy and happiness? The feeling of another person's skin against your own. Stolen kisses in the shadows. Blissful moments where the world didn't matter but for the truth of the love you felt for another.

He held her, injected her with something. She fought hard, to protect herself, to protect the baby – but everything went fuzzy, muddled, then black.

* * *

Everything felt like a fuzzy dream. She vaguely recalled things, but nothing concrete. She wanted to go home, to cuddle Zoe and assure herself that everything would be all right. But it wasn't, it wouldn't.

She didn't knock, just went into Harry's office, still feeling woozy and out of control of herself and her body. The anesthetic was still swirling in her system, but what could she do? She couldn't drive home.

Words poured from her lips, but none of them made any sense, not really. She knew they were meant to, they were meant to be very grave sentences, but the only one that stuck in her addled brain was, "It was my turn."

It was her turn to sacrifice everything to protect the country, and he'd taken it away like he was playing God. And she resented him for that, for being so cowardly. For not letting her prove to him that she was who she had always been –

Tariq called them out to the Grid and showed them a video feed from Lucas – old codes, old spooks.

Ruth's hand found her mouth and she let out an inhuman cry of pain, anguish, terror. He was in their house – their HOUSE – oh god, no! No, he couldn't – he WOULDN'T –

Graham went down, a gunshot, and Beth was already on the line to emergency services.

Harry was very quiet, very grave, as Ruth screamed and cried and hit him, accusing him of countless things as they watched helplessly. Lucas picked up Zoe, who beamed up at him with her dribbly, drooly smile, and the feed fuzzed out. She was going to lose everything – EVERYTHING – and it was going to destroy her from the inside out.

The phone rang and the call was patched through.

"I don't want to, Harry – she's a good kid," Lucas said.

"You would never do that," Harry said very quietly.

Ruth wanted to scream that he'd already killed her, but she held her tongue, sobbing brokenly into Harry's shoulder, begging him silently to stop the madness.

"I've done it before, remember?" Lucas said with a hint of amusement in his tone.

"What do you want?" Harry asked, all semblance of calm beginning to crumble.

"I want you, Harry. Come and meet me – just the three of us," Lucas said.

Her heart stopped, skipped a beat, then two, then shuddered back to life. She wouldn't, couldn't lose anymore than this. It was over – if he came back, she was going to file papers. She couldn't do this again; divorce was preferable to this hell she was living.

They argued amongst themselves about Harry going, about how he would be completely at Lucas's mercy, and Ruth couldn't care anymore. She hurt so badly to the core that she would have gone in his place in an instant, if only she could have Zoe for one more second, one more moment…

"Harry," she croaked as he turned to leave.

"It's my turn," he said softly, leaving before she could react to her words from earlier, thrown back in her face like a bomb.

Everything was muddled, a woozy nightmare of images, sounds, feelings she should never have to feel. She threw up over and over again, Alec holding the rubbish bin for her. Her heart was in her throat, she was desperate to hear something, anything – but she was sure Harry was dead. She was a widow and she'd had her daughter stolen away from her. She wanted to go to the ladies' and plug the sink and drown, but she stayed still in her chair, praying that the dizziness would go away.

She cried – a lot – and she knew that everyone around her was getting testy, but god, it hurt so much – so, so very much.

And suddenly, Tariq said, "I've got Harry's emergency codes from a pay phone near where Lucas set up the meet. Patching him through."

Harry's voice came softly down the line. "John Bateman is dead," he said.

"My baby?" Ruth sobbed, her voice strangely high and tight.

"He didn't do Zoe any harm," Harry said. "She's in her car seat, happy as a clam."

"Graham's been admitted to Queen's Cross Hospital," Beth said. "I'll send a car to get you and the baby –"

Ruth broke down completely, hormones and the tensions of the day overlapping in a spectacular meltdown. She vaguely heard Harry's voice through the fog, saying, "My love, it's going to be all right – we're all right."

She gritted her teeth and spat, "Harry Pearce, I want a divorce. I'm taking my children and moving as far away from you as humanly possible –"

There was dead silence, on the Grid and on the phone.

"Oh my god," Harry finally said, his voice cracking. "When did you find out?"

"Does it matter? You can't protect us, so why shouldn't I just leave?" she asked.

"Ruth, he injected you with ketamine," Harry whispered. "I'm sorry – I'm so sorry –"

Her hand dropped to her belly and the anguish began anew. "No," she breathed. "No –" High doses of ketamine caused spontaneous abortion in most cases involving pregnancy. She began to panic, her breathing getting rather unsteady as she turned over all the implications in her mind – none of them good.

"Get her to the hospital," Harry ordered. "NOW."

* * *

It was over. Graham would live, their baby would not. John Bateman was dead and gone – he would never know, truly, the amount of pain and suffering he had caused. Harry knew that anything he said to Ruth would be colored with emotions he had no right to feel. So he sat at her bedside, holding her hand as she stared off into space, broken. He kissed her knuckles and held tight.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry."

She looked at him, her eyes dead and emotionless. "You should have let him kill me," Ruth whispered.

All he could do was shake his head in denial.

END PART TWENTY


	21. Chapter 21

Twenty-one:  
First True Estrangement

Harry was officially tired of 'house arrest'. He was barely allowed to go to market to get baby formula and nappies, and he was tired of being tailed by a protection detail. He loved spending time with Zoe, but even that was wearing thin. At a particularly dark moment, he contemplated going out and trimming the hedge – but that constituted gardening and that wasn't in his comfort zone.

Neither was Ruth, anymore. She'd moved into the guest room and neither of them was sleeping very well. The master bedroom felt so empty without her, and the bed far too big for one. They didn't talk, even in passing – except to talk about Zoe and Graham or to squabble about whose turn it was to run the washing.

Four weeks, and she still wouldn't look him in the eye or talk to him. He knew it was self-preservation, grief, shock… but it didn't make him feel any better.

He paused in the doorway, taking in the sight of Ruth packing two bags – one full of baby clothes, the other full of her clothes, and he blinked. "Ruth, what's –"

"I took leave," she said crisply. "Zoe and I are going away for a week."

"Did you think that was something you might have discussed with me first?" he asked cautiously.

"No," Ruth replied. "And, so you know, we'll be at the house in Suffolk – so you can call and talk to Zoe."

"Ruth –"

"I need to get away from you," she said, her tone very stiff and cold. "I can't keep living like this."

"Well, you haven't exactly made an effort to make anything better," he pointed out, his frustration finally boiling over. "You just hold me responsible for everything – when that couldn't be further from the truth!"

"Fuck you," Ruth hissed. "You've shirked all responsibility and just – just – I need to leave. I need to get away and decide what I'm going to do. Whether I'm going to resign or request a transfer. Whether I want to move out. Whether I want to stay married to you at all."

He threw his hands up in the air. "Fine, run away," he said. "Don't talk to me. Do this all on your own – be selfish, Ruth. For once in your life, be selfish," Harry sighed, turning and walking away from her. He couldn't possibly let her see how much it hurt to know that he'd probably already lost her, all through his own stupidity and thick-headedness. All they did was fight now, if they did anything. He wanted them to be back in love, unscathed. He wanted everything to be different.

He went into the nursery and scooped Zoe up out of her crib. She chewed on her fingers and cooed, burbling and smiling, oblivious to the fact that her world might just be crumbling around her.

"I love you, Zoe," Harry said very softly. "No matter what, I will always love you, sweetheart." He rubbed the baby's back and sighed.

Ruth said, "She loves you, too." He turned and looked at her in the doorway, bags under her eyes, skin sallow, looking for all the world like a victim of some horrible catastrophe… and it was true enough. They might not be able to weather the storm.

He pinned his gaze on her, trying to will her to believe him. "Ruth, I love you, too," he said very softly. For a moment, she looked like she might give in, but she just smiled sadly and looked away. He cursed inwardly – he wasn't ready for this, for them, to be over. She couldn't possibly be, either. "Ruth," he said, "please look at me…"

She never looked at him, just said, "Maybe love isn't enough, Harry."

"It must be," he whispered. "It has to be."

She shook her head and murmured, "I'm still going. I need time. Away from all of this. Away from you."

"Ruth –"

"Harry," she said very quietly, meeting his eyes hesitantly, skittishly, "I love you. So much. But this, us, it's broken. I need time. I need space. I can't fix it now."

"We haven't even tried –"

"Harry, I woke up this morning and started packing and I had to repack because I forgot you weren't coming with us," she confessed very softly. "I'm angry, I'm splintered in a thousand pieces, and all we've done is fight. Please just give me time. I love you – please let that be enough for right now."

Zoe tangled her fingers in his hair and yanked. "Ow! Zoe, gentle," Harry gasped.

The baby pouted, then let out a plaintive whimper of, "Daaaaah."

He paused, then said, "What, sweetheart?" Her first proper word, and it was calling for him. She burbled and yanked on his hair again.

"Dah," she repeated.

He smiled and gave her a kiss. "You're very clever like mummy," he praised.

Graham appeared over Ruth's shoulder. "Are you two done fighting now?" he asked warily.

"Momentary pause," Ruth said. "I'm about to load the car, and then Zoe and I will be out of your hair for a few days."

Graham frowned a little. "Zoe, are you really going to let your mum run off with you?" he asked.

Zoe burbled, gurgled, and tugged on Harry's ear. "Dahhhh," she squealed, laughing.

"I think that's baby talk for 'mummy-daughter bonding time'," Harry said.

"Sounded like she was scolding you," Graham replied. "I can't wait to get healed and ditch this bloody sling so I can pick her up again."

"Ppppplfhufffgeeeeeeee," Zoe said. She made grabby hands at her brother. "Geeeeeee."

Harry carried her closer so she could give Graham his affectionate pats. "Geeeow," Zoe slurred.

"When did you start talking, Zoe-muffin?" Graham asked.

"Just a few minutes ago," Ruth said softly.

Zoe looked over at her mother and said, "Muuuuuhm."

Ruth smiled just a little and said, "You be good for daddy – mummy's going to pack the car."

Harry sighed and looked at Zoe. "You, little miss Pearce, better take care of your mum," he said firmly. "She's very fragile, you know."

Graham said, "Dad, you better make up with Ruth –"

"I'm trying," Harry protested. His voice softened. "I'm trying. She needs time apart."

"She needs a good shag," Graham muttered.

Harry smacked him upside the head. "Don't ever say that again," he warned.

"Dad –"

"Shut it," Harry said firmly.

Zoe yawned and tucked her face into Harry's neck. "Daah," she whispered, patting his cheek.

He was going to miss them so much. So, so much.

* * *

'Are you going to eat that or just stare at it?" Graham asked, pointing at Harry's plate with his fork. "Because if you aren't going to eat it, I will."

Harry sighed and pushed his plate away. "I'm going to take the dogs for a walk," he said.

Graham rolled his eyes. "Ruth isn't going to call you, is she? It's been a week and you're intolerably mopey, grumpy, and just all around awful."

"She promised to call," Harry muttered.

"She was just telling you what you wanted to hear to shut you up," Graham said. "She doesn't want you poking your nose in things."

Harry grunted and glared at his son. "I really don't care for your attitude."

"I really don't care for the fact that your wife, that you supposedly love most dearly, just up and left with my little sister," Graham said.

Harry shrugged. "It's not your place, son."

"Maybe not, but I'm going to be the one to tell you that Ruth is smart – if she wants to disappear and take Zoe with her, she will," Graham warned.

Harry gritted his teeth. "Stick a fork in it," he growled. Deep inside, though, he knew his son was right. If Ruth ran and took Zoe, she knew where and how to hide.

* * *

"Dahh?" Zoe said sadly, grabbing at Ruth's phone. "DAH!"

Ruth sighed and smoothed down the little girl's curly hair. "Daddy is busy, love," she said gently. "Why don't you play with mummy and your toys? Or mummy can read you a story…"

Zoe's little face screwed up and she started bawling her eyes out. "DAH!" she insisted forlornly.

Ruth gave the baby a kiss and whispered, "Oh, sweetheart, mummy and daddy have made a mess of everything, haven't they?"

"Muuuuhm," the baby whimpered. "Dah…"

"Oh, all right," Ruth finally acquiesced.

She rang his phone, and for her trouble got a curt, "Pearce."

"Harry," was all she could manage to say. Eight days alone with a baby and she was about to go crackers. She needed to hear his voice, to be forgiven and to forgive. She needed, wanted, had to believe that he still loved her, despite being trapped in her head.

"Dah! Dah DAH!" Zoe shrieked. Ruth put the phone on speaker and set it down.

"Zoe wanted you rather badly," Ruth said softly. She wanted him worse, though she couldn't bring herself to say that aloud. There was a Harry-sized hole in her heart, and it ached for the absence of him.

"Hullo, sweetheart," Harry said gruffly. "I miss you."

"Daaaaaah," Zoe said excitedly, chewing on her finger.

Ruth sighed softly and said, "I'm coming home tomorrow."

"Don't," Harry said. "I've got the cleaners round – they're replacing the carpet. Graham is staying with Jane."

"Where are you?" she asked. "A hotel, I'd imagine –"

There was silence, then he sighed. "I'm about to pull into the drive, actually."

"Oh," she said.

"Go to the window," Harry said. She did as he asked, and inhaled sharply when she saw the Rover turn down the last curve of the lane. "I didn't say which drive."

"Oh, Harry –"

"Just open the door for me," he said, and the phone went dead.

"Zoe," Ruth cooed, "Daddy's here – you want to see daddy?"

Zoe shrieked, "DAH!"

"Yes, daddy," Ruth agreed, going to the front door. She unlocked it and Harry breezed through. "Harry, I –"

She was taken aback when he kissed her soundly and whispered, "Time's run out, Ruth. We can't wait any longer."

She stood there, stunned, suddenly licking her lips. "You're… quite right," she whispered.

"Dah!" Zoe insisted, grabbing at his shirt collar. Harry took her from Ruth and gave her a big kiss. The baby laid her head on his shoulder, content – finally.

Ruth closed the front door and whispered, "I was wrong."

"I'm very glad you came to that conclusion," Harry said. "On your own. Before I got here."

"I can't do this – any of it – alone," she said.

"Damn straight," he agreed. "If you hadn't concluded that, I was intending on sweeping you off your feet and tying you to the bed till you listened to me."

She blushed and smiled. "What would you have tied me with?"

He gave her a Look. "One or more of the ties that you've made off with," he said dourly.

She flushed pink and her smile grew. "Ah, yes…"

"Ruth?"

"Hmm?"

"I want to retire here – with you."

She nodded and said, "I want that, too."

"Good thing we're still on the same page," he said softly.

She nodded and gave him a kiss. It was meant to be chaste but only took moments to become torrid.

END PART TWENTY-ONE


	22. Chapter 22

Twenty-two:  
First Personal Favor

Harry's suspension was lifted – due to the Home Secretary pulling strings – and things on the Grid abruptly shifted back into a normal pattern. Ruth felt so much more at ease at her desk now; not that she had any reason to not care for Erin Watts as a Division Head, but her dynamic with Harry was simple and they worked together like a well-oiled machine. She felt quite elated when he walked in and went to meet Erin for the first time – elated because she wouldn't feel guilty for sneaking surreptitious glances at his office anymore.

He conversed briefly with Erin, then got to work. Ruth kept track of just how long he kept Erin in his office and watched him like a hawk. Nothing untoward happened, and she felt irrationally jealous of the thin, vibrant woman in her husband's company. That might have more to do with all of the soul-searching they had done together the last few days before his return. Long conversations, drawn-out sessions of lovemaking, a few shared bottles of wine, and even Harry attempting to sing her favorite song had just made them closer, and she was loath to share him with anyone.

Callum glanced over at her and said, "I'm sure you're glad he's back –"

"Of course I am," Ruth replied. "It means something might get done around here." She focused on her computer, squinting slightly at the jumble of words in the report that she was combing.

She didn't notice Harry until he cleared his throat. "Ruth, a word please?" he said.

"Certainly," she said, following him into his office. She was very aware of everyone watching them through the glass, so she kept a professional distance apart from Harry. "Yes, my love?" she said, trying not to smile at him.

He settled into his chair and said, "At ten-thirty, Lyonesse will enter Thames House through the underground tunnel. There has been a credible threat against her life in light of the secret talks with Russia, and she wishes to secure your assistance in this matter."

This gave Ruth pause. "My assistance?" she said after a moment. "What on earth can I do that anyone else can't?"

He sighed and said, "She trusts you, Ruth. You've helped her in the past."

"Yes, but now we have a baby and a garden and a washing machine and I'm not fit for an undercover op," she protested.

Harry sighed. "I've spoken to the Home Secretary and your assistance in this matter is the price of my continued employment," he admitted quietly. "I am surprised by the underhanded deviance, but not surprised that it would be lorded over me so."

"You are a bit of a traitor," she said, her voice lowering seductively. He blinked and stared at her for a long moment, and she added, "But I do love a bit of a bad boy."

He cleared his throat and said, "Yes, well – we've been promised more than sufficient recompence for the inconvenience of your being pulled away to Buckingham Palace again. And Albany scrubbed from our records."

Ruth regarded him passively for a moment, then said, "For that, I would do almost anything asked of me."

Harry nodded and said, "I thought you might say that. I just wanted you to be prepared for the Queen to walk across the Grid."

"The thought terrifies me," she admitted. "She's taking so much risk in coming here –"

"She thinks you will be more inclined to assist if she comes to you, rather than me just assigning and sending you," Harry said gently. "Though you are but an acquaintance, she does value the work you've done her in the past."

Ruth nodded and exhaled. "God's balls, Harry, you get me into all kinds of messes, don't you?" she asked, trying not to smile, trying to sound stern.

"Ruth, if you don't – if you don't want to, if you think it's too high of a price, then let me hang from Traitor's Gate," he said softly. He reached up and took her hand, squeezing it. "You, Graham, and Zoe are worth every moment of stolen time," he promised.

Ruth nodded and swallowed hard. "Whatever she asks, it won't be too high of a price," she promised him very softly. "I'll do what it takes." She squeezed his hand and left the room before she could convince herself not to leave him.

* * *

Harry found her in the conference room long after Lyonesse had left, sitting on the floor in the corner, knees drawn up under her chin. "Ruth?" he said softly.

"The Russians have a mole in the Palace," she said quietly. "I'm meant to ascertain who it is. I'll be transferred officially into the Queen's service as her personal assistant for the duration of the mission." She looked up at him, and his heart crumpled. He'd had no right to ask her to do this to save his neck, but she'd made the choice and done it willingly. "I won't be using a legend," she added. "The arrangements are under my married name and title."

"No," Harry said. "Do you know how dangerous –"

"It lends credibility," she said. "I know how dangerous it is. It will be a calculated risk."

He exhaled a sigh, turning it over and over again in his head. "It's known that I work for the Security Services –"

"Yes," she agreed. "Which might make the mole go to ground. I doubt it, though – the ego on this one is very large. Gloating about bits of things that don't matter much."

"That doesn't mean that your safety is to be ignored –"

She looked up at him and smiled. "I know you've already got plans to put a team on security at the house," she said. "And that you'll probably call Malcolm and have him upgrade the security system at the soonest possible moment."

"All of that has crossed my mind, yes, in short order," he said firmly. He would die a thousand deaths if any true peril befell his precious Ruth again. His heart couldn't take it.

"Harry," she said softly, "it will be all right."

"I just don't like the idea of you being in the field where I can't keep an eye on you," he admitted.

"Your concern is touching," she murmured, drawing him down for a kiss. "Mmm," she hummed against his lips, and he felt a thrill go up his spine. "Oh, the Russians are already here," she added as an afterthought. "Ilya Gavrik is supposedly their path to peace and harmonious odiousness in Britain."

Harry said, "Gavrik." He couldn't keep the annoyance out of his voice. Berlin. The sticky wicket that she didn't even know existed. He sighed. "Why did it have to be Gavrik?"

"Do you know him?"

Harry snorted. "He was my opposite number in Berlin," he said. "Around the time Graham was born."

"I didn't know you were in Berlin," she said.

"During my secondment with Six," he sighed. "I did things I'm not proud of."

She leaned back against him and said, "Like what."

He frowned, sighed, made a face. "I seduced Elena Gavrik," he muttered. "Turned her, set her to spying, and then burned her when she lied to my face."

"What did she lie about?" she asked, glossing over the fact that he'd fucked another woman.

"Sasha – her son," he said. "She said he was mine. There was no way; she was pregnant when we met. I burned her because I couldn't trust her after that. She wanted to defect, but… I couldn't let her into the country after that."

"She's here, now," Ruth sighed. "And she's bloody gorgeous and glamorous."

"She's not you," he said simply.

"Were you – did you – love her?" she asked weakly.

"I thought I might could have been," he said, feeling it was better to tell the truth. "But I was wrong. I didn't know what love was. I hadn't got a clue."

"Harry –"

"I didn't know what love was until I met you," he whispered, kissing her temple. "I'd be stupid to let it slip through my fingers now."

She murmured something to the affirmative and laid her head back against his shoulder. "Won't people be wondering where we are?" she asked softly.

"No," he murmured. "But that's because they're all gobsmacked about Lyonesse just walking in here like she owned the place and turning her nose up at Erin's offer of tea. Let alone wanting to speak with you – not me, you." He'd seen the boys sniffing around her already and it displeased him greatly – especially Dimitri, seeing as how he KNEW that Harry would have his balls for paperweights if he did anything untoward. Callum, all youth and cheek and sass, was more openly leering at Ruth and Harry wanted to club him with a very big stick.

Fortunately, Ruth wasn't interested in anyone but him. "Harry, I think we should go shopping at the weekend and get Zoe some new things – she's almost outgrown her shoes again," she said.

"Are you changing the subject?"

"Yes, please."

He nuzzled her neck and whispered, "I would love to go out with my girls this weekend."

"Good," she replied.

* * *

Ruth came home late, exhausted to the very core. Her new boss was extremely demanding and made Harry look like a cupcake in Candyland. Everything was urgent to the nth degree and she'd spent all day trying to get five minutes alone to use the loo. She opened the front door, entered the alarm code, and paused, wondering why everything was dark. Harry usually left the light on.

She flipped the switch and gasped. Harry was sitting on the floor, holding his head. "Ruth, Sasha Gavrik was here when I got home. He waved a gun in my face, told me to break off contact with his mother – and when I told him I had no idea what he was yammering on about, he hit me over the head and left. That was about fifteen minutes ago – Zoe and Graham are upstairs, asleep."

"Harry, we need to get you looked at," she breathed, looking at the wound.

"No, I want to know why Sasha thinks I'm in contact with his mother," he groaned. She spit onto the edge of her cardigan and used it to carefully wipe away the crusty blood. "Stop fussing," Harry ordered.

"I won't – how did he get in?" she asked worriedly. "Harry, what if he gets it into his head to do something to the kids?"

"I don't want to think about it," he growled. "Stop it. I've already called for a protection detail put on the house at once."

Her hands were shaking and she whispered, "Are you sure you don't want to go to Casualty?"

"No, I'm all right," Harry insisted. "I just want to know why he thinks I'm contacting Elena. I haven't spoken to that woman in near thirty years."

She was far more rattled than she would let him know. The intelligence pointed to someone in the Russian circles being the assassin sent to knock out the Queen, and now that she was ensconced in the Palace, now that their home had been invaded by an FSB officer, she was actually frightened.

"No matter," she murmured. "We can't unpick this tonight – time for bed, if you won't be sensible and get thee to a doctor."

"Bed sounds good," he sighed.

For once, she agreed with him wholly.

END PART TWENTY-TWO


	23. Chapter 23

Twenty-three:  
First Show of Solidarity

Harry watched Ruth put on the final touches of makeup – a little dab of something pale and sparkly on the top of her cheekbones, blended out into her blush, and a little bit of gloss over her dark red lipstick – and thanked his lucky stars that he had her. The Anglo-Russian reception was going to be inanely boring, aside from the obvious opportunity for covert spying, but he'd at least have Ruth to look at. And, lo and behold, she was extraordinarily resplendent in a turquoise satin gown with a square neckline, no sleeves, and a large diamond brooch holding up a swoop of gathered skirt near her left hip. Her neck was bare, but she'd curled her hair and tastefully pinned it back with tiny glittering hairpins and her diamond drop earrings sparkled against the soft curve of her neck.

"Harry, it's not polite to stare," she murmured, looking at him in the mirror as she finished primping. "Especially since I'm your wife. They expect the betters to flirt with each other and secure assignations and affairs, but not the marrieds." She stood up and slipped her small feet into a pair of high heels with a crust of sparkling rhinestones spread across their toes like a sunburst. "Do I look all right? Her Majesty was very keen that I look every bit like I represent her at this do." She smoothed her dress and looked at him for affirmation.

"Ruth, if you ever went to dinner with me dressed like this – just dinner – there would be a very happy ending to every story we'd write together," he promised. "I'm going to have to beat men off you tonight."

She laughed, the sound a little sarcastic and rueful. "I'm sure it won't be like that," she said softly. "Besides, you're the only person I'll be leaving with – I promise." She grabbed her clutch and said, "Now, I think we should lay down a few ground rules…"

"Like what?"

"No snogging in the car," she said. "This lipstick is insanely messy and the last thing we need is it all over you and your collar."

He sighed, a little deflated. "Oh," he said.

"And no inappropriate touching," Ruth warned. "We can save that for the drive home… or when we get home."

He felt a little weak at that – he knew for a fact that she wasn't wearing any knickers because the tightness of the back side of the gown wouldn't allow for anything more than a thong without panty lines. And there were no lines whatsoever. It was going to be a long night. "All right," he muttered, feeling glum and a little aroused at the idea of playing dumb and good.

She murmured, "And no copping a feel."

"You're just meant to spoil all of my fun," he growled.

"We must behave," she said firmly. "And I'm meant to be glamorous for this occasion, but I feel like a fool now – this skirt is absurd."

"Why did you buy the dress if you didn't like it?" he asked, his hand splaying out across the small of her back, his pinky finger straying low on her hip, close to her delectable rear.

"I like the color," she sighed. "And the thought of the silhouette. But it's far too tight in places that shouldn't be so tight."

"I think you look amazing," he said. "Like a true Dame. You will command respect and demand supplication, and you shall be on my arm. We're a pair," he reminded her, smiling. "Let them try to come between us."

She gave him a meaningful look, and said, "Will you help me fasten this bracelet before I break myself?"

He smiled and fastened the diamond bracelet – a gift for their last anniversary – onto her wrist. "I will say it again, Ruth – you are breathtaking in all the most wonderful ways."

She exhaled shakily and murmured, "I hate parties."

"I know," he agreed.

"Especially when I have to be myself," she said. "If I have a legend to hide behind, I'm okay – but when it's me, I'm just boring old Ruth."

"Not old," he contradicted, "and never boring, my darling. Now, we better get going. The team is going to wonder where we are."

* * *

Ruth still had misgivings about the dress, but mostly because she felt like her breasts were going to bust out everywhere. They were extremely well-supported and contained, but the dress's built-in corset made it dreadfully hard to breathe. She wondered if those ghastly Spanx things were quite as bad as this… but the way Harry looked at her in this dress almost made the torture worth it. He kept sending her surreptitious glances that made her warm straight through.

And the idea of him being the one to divest her of this particular piece of seductive apparel had all of her bits tingling. His fingertips played over her hand, carefully twisting her wedding ring around her finger. "Nervous?" she murmured as they pulled up to the building.

"No," he said, but she could tell he was lying.

"Harry," she said softly, "it's okay to admit it. I am nervous. We both are. Aren't we?"

"Anxious," he corrected. "I'm anxious."

She lifted his hand to her lips and kissed the inside of his left palm, a secret print of dark red lipstick branding him. "Think of this and be calm," she murmured.

He closed his fingers, trapping the mark in his fist. "Thank you," he whispered.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you anxious about seeing her again?"

"Maybe. A little. Yes." He exhaled and exited the car, reaching back inside to guide her out. She was amazed that she didn't wipe out as she stood to right herself – her shoes were absolutely ridiculous. But he held her hand and supported her, then took her arm and twined their hands together, sealing her kiss between their warm skin. "I'm more anxious about the assassination threat received by the Gavriks this morning. I'd hate to see anyone caught in the crossfire if someone attempts it."

She swallowed and said, "You shouldn't have told me that, Harry – now it's all I'll be thinking about."

He sighed and placed his hand low against her spine. "Don't think, don't react, just be Dame Ruth Pearce – be commanding, stand tall and regally, and for god's sake, don't let Elena think that she could possibly have any cause to repeat the sins of the past, all right? You're my wife, my heart, the other half of my soul, and I need you to be strong tonight." His lips caressed the shell of her ear. "I promise to make it all worth your while, my love."

She licked her lips and whispered, "Promises, promises, Sir Harry."

He drew back and spoke to the man at the checkpoint. "Sir Harry and Dame Ruth Pearce," Harry said firmly, with no hint of malice or intimidation.

"Please step through the scanners," one of the security guards said. Harry released his grip on her and removed his cellphone from his jacket pocket before stepping through. He reclaimed the offending device on the other side, as Ruth passed over her clutch and followed him. All clear.

He offered her his arm again, the lipstick stain still clutched firmly in their joined hands. "I love you," he said so only she could hear.

"I love you, too," she murmured, smiling over at him.

He was very handsome in his bow tie and tails, she had to admit. But she loved him scruffy in the mornings and with one or two buttons undone, tie askew, as well. Maybe even moreso, she loved him sitting on the edge of the bed in just his boxers, holding their daughter and talking softly to her. It was unguarded, gentle, full of love, the look on his face when he would look up at her – and they both marveled that they'd made such a small, perfect person together.

She squeezed his hand as he led her to the Home Secretary. "Home Secretary, please stop looking at my wife as if she's a piece of meat," Harry said in a low, dangerous tone. "Any more credence to the threats?"

Towers cleared his throat and pulled his eyes away from Ruth. She blushed and squeezed Harry's hand again. "Would you like champagne or a vodka spritzer, darling?" she asked, releasing her grip and his arm.

"Champagne, please," Harry said, and she slipped away, going straight up to Callum, who looked every bit the disinterested waiter. She took one of each drink and gave him a sour look when his eyes wandered into her cleavage. She was returning to Harry's side when Elena Gavrik came out of nowhere, blocking her path.

She dodged and swerved round Elena, nearly upsetting the drinks. Elena grabbed her elbow and said, "I'm sorry, but I believe your drinks are… unsavory." She plucked them out of Ruth's hands and returned them to a waiting tray. "Security services being what they are, it would behoove you to be careful with that man."

Ruth inclined her head and tutted slightly. "My husband?" she shot back. "He wouldn't hurt a fly."

Elena regarded her with surprise. "Your husband?"

"Yes," Ruth said, feeling less than threatened by the beautiful redhead in her striking red dress. "My husband. I'm Lady Pearce, by the way – I didn't quite catch your name, madam."

"Tell your husband to go out the door in the corner at two minutes past eight on the main wall clock," Elena said, disappearing back into the crowd.

Ruth went back for more drinks, passing Erin and Dimitri both ways, giving no inclination that she knew them. When she reached Harry's side, she murmured, "I'm sorry, my love – I was making the acquaintance of one of the Russian ladies."

"Oh?" Harry said as she passed him his champagne.

"Yes, she's quite striking and elegant, though her manners leave a touch to be desired," Ruth said pointedly. "Home Secretary, may I borrow my husband for a moment?"

"Of course," Towers said, taking his leave.

Harry leaned down and she pressed her lips against his ear, breathing, "Pretend I'm saying something deliciously naughty and intimate." His arm slid around her waist and he pulled her much closer, his hand wandering over her thigh possessively and seductively. "Elena Gavrik accosted me. She wants you to meet her at two past eight through the door in the corner. I don't think you should risk it; god knows what she wants from you, Harry."

He chuckled, a deep, dirty laugh that thrilled her and made her feel as liquid in his arms. He drew her down for a kiss and said rather loudly, "Naughty minx, behave." He leaned in closer to her and barely breathed, "Tap my shoulder twice if you think she's a threat." Her fingers curled into his shoulder twice, looking to the world like an intimate act. "Then I won't meet her." He leaned in and kissed her deeply, soundly, then scolded, "Behave, dear. We mustn't make the others jealous."

She was very aware of Elena's sizzlingly arch look from across the room, and gently pushed Harry's hand from her thigh. "I should behave?" she laughed. "You're the one with their hand in the biscuit tin."

His hand wandered over her ass, then up to her ribs where it settled for a moment before gently, tenderly coming to rest on her belly for just a moment. She knew what he was trying to say; that he loved her no matter the cost, that they were worth more together than apart. To the casual observer, it would look like he was being protective of her because she was expecting; to her, it was a setting up of a ruse, a way to pique Elena's interest and jealousy. And yet, his simple touch made her feel weak and dizzy with the promises of the night to come. Possessive, protective Harry was intoxicating.

"We're being stared at," she murmured.

"Yes, by many people," he replied, pulling back and smiling at her, that impish Harry smile when he was about to make merry mischief. She'd fallen in love with that smile. He drew away a bit and let her sip her champagne – then took it away and winked. "Tut, tut, m'lady," he scolded. "You're not meant to drink now."

She pouted and he kissed her, looking apologetic.

Ruth hoped they were playing things convincingly – but by Harry's own estimation, Elena Gavrik was a mistress of deception herself. She wondered for a split second how it would be if she were actually pregnant, like they were implying, but brushed it off quickly before she got too emotional. "Harry," she sighed, and he put his finger across her lips.

Ilya Gavrik came over with his wife on his arm. "Why is such a lovely woman so upset by your attentions, Sir Harry Pearce?" Ilya inquired.

"Ah, because my lovely lady is carrying a very precious package," Harry said, "and I'd hate for her to do it any damage." He turned and extended his hand to Ilya. "Minister Gavrik."

Ilya glanced at his wife. "I'm afraid I've been unfaithful, my dear – I thought of this man every night for years upon years…"

Ruth spoke up, "Well, good thing I scooped him up before you could come round to your senses." She smiled coyly and toyed with her wedding ring. "Minister Gavrik, it's a pleasure."

Ilya kissed her hand, and she quelled the urge to vomit. The man was odious slime personified. He said, "Sir Harry, Lady Pearce –"

"Dame Pearce," Harry corrected.

"Ma'am," Ilya corrected himself, "my wife, Elena."

"Let us leave the men to their nostalgia, my dear," Elena invited. "I should like to make your acquaintance more thoroughly, Mrs. Pearce." The lack of title and throwing of Ruth's marriage status around was like a slap in the face. Ruth followed her quietly away from their husbands. "Will he meet me?"

"Not likely," Ruth said, faking a smile.

"I have information he will want to hear –"

"Oh do you?" Ruth asked, raising an eyebrow. She decided to play dumb. "Like what? How desperate you are to have him inside you again?" Her voice fairly crackled with irritation. "He doesn't want you. Not personally and not professionally. You are no longer an asset to him. Do you understand?"

Ruth felt something cold press into her side. "Tell him to be there, or I will send my son to visit your children again," Elena purred, cocking the gun. "He will want to hear what I have to say about his Queen's safety."

Ruth inhaled sharply and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, the gun was gone and so was Elena. She shared a panicked glance with Dimitri, then jumped when the Home Secretary came over. "Ruth – may I call you Ruth? After Harry's inquiry, I checked into your records and I think that you'd be a lovely addition to my office if –"

She said, "Will you please excuse me? I feel quite unwell." She flailed about a bit, trying to attract Harry's attention, even going so far as to fake a bit of a faint directly into Dimitri's arms. Harry rushed over and she hissed, "Come with me, to the ladies. We must meet her."

"Ruth, my love, you poor dear," Harry sighed. "Come now – we mustn't upset baby, now… do you still feel ill?"

"Quite," she said miserably for the sake of their ploy.

He helped her up and put his arm around her waist, leading her from the room, through the little door in the corner. No one looked twice at their leaving, something for which Ruth was glad.

Elena was waiting for them in the staff ladies' room. Ruth locked the door behind them as they entered. "Harry, you must know that I would not make such a request as this lightly –"

"Yes," he said in a clipped tone. "Nor would you threaten my wife, would you?"

"She is no more your wife than Jane was," Elena said coldly. "She only keeps your bed warm."

Ruth held back, keeping her face blank, passive, insipidly stupidly droll. The wire that was set up in her hairpins was sending all of this back to the Grid. She just needed to be quiet and not react.

"Speak your piece," Harry said, getting more irritated by the moment. His left hand was clasped with Ruth's right, the remnants of a lipstick-stained kiss keeping them both strong and focused.

"Your Queen is in great danger."

"When is she not?" Harry replied gravely.

"There are whispers of a need for change," Elena said. "Of a state-sanctioned murder. Two factions coming together to become a new whole."

"When?" Harry said.

Elena looked at Ruth with distrust and distaste. "I won't speak with her in the room."

Harry glared at her. "Fine. Ruth, wait outside."

She did as he asked. Five minutes later, Elena slipped back into the corridor, a knowing smirk on her lips. "Harry is such a delightful lover," she said as she passed. "So thoughtful… so giving… as he stabs you in the heart. Beware his charm, Mrs. Pearce: the tiger has claws."

Ruth stepped back into the ladies and looked at Harry. "When?" she said softly.

He raised his eyes to hers and said, "The Queen's reception Tuesday. She spoke in riddles and prose, but she's scared of him – Ilya. She's scared of what he might do."

"Ilya Gavrik is going to kill Lyonesse?" Ruth whispered.

"So it seems," Harry said very quietly. He scrubbed at the edge of his jaw, and she saw the faintest hint of pink from Elena's lips. "Ruth, she kissed me," Harry said. "I didn't react, just demanded that she tell me what she wanted to say."

"I know," she said, reaching for his left hand. She toyed with his wedding band for a moment, then traced a heart on the inside of his palm. "Shall we return to the party before they think we've both gone off for a quick shag?"

"Yes," he said. "Tariq will analyze my wire and we'll have more information tomorrow."

She nodded and said, "I need some of that liquid fortification now, but you've managed to convince everyone that I'm expecting, so I'm woefully sober."

He smiled and gave her a deep kiss, making sure to get plenty of her lipstick on him. "Ten minutes of blissful ignorance and mooning over each other, then we'll make our escape," he promised.

They came back into the reception hall together, hand in hand, entirely too close for their own good, laughing at their own private jokes. They'd been back less than a minute when all hell broke loose – a waiter began shooting across the room.

Harry threw her to the floor and covered her with his body, wincing when one of the bullets glanced across his collarbone. "Stay down," he hissed as the gunfire continued, then got further away. She breathed quickly, shallowly, her hand curling around his as she watched the Gavriks being escorted from the room by their security detail. A young man was the last out the door, his hateful glare falling on them.

A moment later, Callum was helping them up and whispered, "Assassin is down. Erin shot him."

Harry said, "Get the Home Secretary out of here and into his car. Clear the scene and call in the rest of the Grid." When Callum scrambled, Erin and Dimitri came back into the room, looking shell-shocked. Harry looked Ruth over and said, "You aren't hurt, are you?"

"No, but you are –"

"A scratch," he denied, though he didn't pull away when she tried to look him over. "Ruth, I promise, I am all right – and those bullets were aimed at Ilya Gavrik. You and I were just in the way."

She nodded stiffly and said, "We better analyze the wiretaps quickly," she said. "I'm to report on the party to Lyonesse in the morning."

"I should stay here –"

"Go home," Erin said brusquely. "Dimitri and I can handle this and report in the morning."

Once upon a time, Harry would have insisted on staying. Tonight, to Ruth's relief, he insisted on going home with her as quickly as possible.

* * *

All thoughts of hot, torrid sex were gone from their minds as they lay on the bed in their formal wear, clinging to each other like their lives depended on strength from each other.

His left hand was firmly clasped in her right hand, the bond unbreakable.

END PART TWENTY-THREE


	24. Chapter 24

Twenty-four:  
First Doubtful Moments

Ruth didn't remember a time when she'd come home so deep in her thoughts. She'd spent the whole day multi-tasking herself into exhaustion between the glossy high-profile running of the Queen's schedule and the underhanded, devious spying and preparations for MI-5. She was so close to the mole, she could feel him or her breathing, but she lacked the last few pieces of the puzzle to make it work and take them out.

She tossed her handbag on the counter in the kitchen and came over to kiss Zoe. "Hello, darling," she murmured. "Were you good for your brother today?"

Zoe chewed on her toast, smacking her lips together hungrily as she got crumbs everywhere. "Muuuuhm," she said happily.

Blissful children made so many things better, Ruth mused, running her fingers through her daughter's curly blonde hair. The baby held up a gooey, gnawed-on piece of toast and Ruth took it, pretending to take a bite. "Oh, that's yummy, isn't it?" She passed it back to Zoe and smiled as the baby shrieked in glee and giggled.

"She's been crawling around here all day," Graham said. "She's learned suddenly how to pull herself up on the furniture."

"Won't be long before she's walking," Ruth said wistfully. She sat down beside Zoe and just watched her eating. She missed being home with the baby, but what could she do? Especially now.

Lyonesse had made her an offer of employment – on Ruth's very capable merits, apparently. Not even in the position she was in now; no, she was offering to create a position of PA: Political Analyst, reporting directly to Her Majesty, tripling her MI-5 pay, ensuring her pension, better leave time, better schedule. God help her, Ruth wanted to take it. Immediately. It was a knee-jerk, visceral reaction to the very real idea that either she or Harry could be taken out at any moment in time as spies. At least the Queen had incredibly tight security – or she would do as soon as Ruth found the mole and disposed of them.

She wanted to protect Zoe for as long as she possibly could from the horrors of the outside world. God knew she wanted only the best for her daughter, especially seeing as how… Ruth sighed and gently stroked the baby's cheek as she ate her toast. Things hadn't been easy for her or Harry since the Albany fiasco. She could count the number of times they'd had sex on one hand – which was unusual for them, to say the least. They were either interrupted or just couldn't get things moving – too much guilt, too little trust, too much stress and exhaustion. And when they did have sex, he wore a condom and she was religious in taking her pills. The trauma of losing two children was going to break them, wasn't it?

She exhaled another sad sigh and pressed a kiss to Zoe's forehead. "You carry on, love," she murmured. "Mummy's going to go take a shower."

The baby hummed to the affirmative and made a happy noise before she slapped the high chair tray.

Ruth went upstairs and closed the door to the master bedroom, making sure the shades were drawn before she stripped down to nothing. She looked at herself in the mirror critically, wondering what Harry could possibly see in her now. She'd lost the suppleness of youth a long while back; her breasts were sagging now, her thighs much larger than they'd been before with the added humiliation of cellulite, her buttocks wasn't perky anymore, stretch marks marred her skin and her belly was very much less than flat. Her face was edged with lines and her eyes looked hollow, even to her. Like she was devoid of a soul. Like everything had been taken away and this shell was all that was left.

No wonder he didn't want to fuck her anymore.

She took off her wedding ring and left it on the dresser with her other regular jewelry before she stepped into the bathroom. She turned the water on and let it heat before she stepped in. Normally, she preferred baths, but when she felt such horrible self-loathing and doubt, all she wanted was to feel like she could scrub herself clean – and a shower was so much better for it.

Long after she was done washing, she just stood under the water and used her hands to brace herself against the tile. Everything was wrong; nothing was wrong. She didn't know what to do, how to explain even to herself what she wanted.

The bathroom door opened and he came in to use the toilet. He didn't flush (thank everything), but he did wash his hands and pat them dry. Harry said, "Dinner's almost ready –"

The words didn't sound like they had any hidden meaning, but that didn't mean that they weren't charged with something. She murmured, "I'm almost finished. I'll be down soon."

There was a long moment of silence, then Harry said, "Look, I know –"

"Please don't," she whispered. "Since the reception, everything's been off. It's not you. It's me." She took a deep breath and pushed off the wall, peering out from behind the shower curtain. His tie was loosened and askew, his top three buttons undone, his cuffs rolled up to his elbows. Scruffy whiskers from the day peppered his chin, tiredness lay in his eyes – but he was so lovely to her. He held her heart so gently as not to squash it, and why? So she could think so easily about betraying him and running off to the Queen's employ? She took a deep breath and said, "I got a job offer today; a good one."

He paused, then nodded. "Yes, I feared you might," Harry admitted. He loosened his tie even further, then took it off entirely when it seemed to offend him. "Are you going to take it?" No recrimination, no accusation, nothing bad except for a shade of defeat in the slump of his shoulders.

"I don't know," she said softly. "I want to talk to you about it."

"It's not my choice," he said. "I've held you back all this time, selfishly, because I wanted you close every day. I wanted to be able to see you across the Grid and know that we were okay." He looked at her very closely, then added, "We aren't all right, though, are we? Not right now."

She met his gaze, steadily, then said, "I've wanted – needed – you more than ever. It frightens me."

"It doesn't frighten me," he said. "And I do need you more, like air to breathe."

"Then why are we holding each other at a distance?" Ruth asked.

"Because everything is…"

"Wrong?"

"No. Everything is tentative."

She turned the water off; it had turned icy. She stepped out from behind the curtain onto the fluffy bath rug and looked up at him. "I don't want tentative. I want you. All of you. All of me wants all of you – like before."

"Albany."

She felt that uncertainty return, knowing he blamed himself. But she couldn't let him go on thinking any of it was his fault – it was no more his than it had been hers.

"Sod Albany," Ruth said.

Those two words opened the flood gates; grief, pain, love all mingled and played out across their faces until all that was left was love. Simple, plain, love.

"Sod Albany, then," he whispered.

"Bugger it and bury it," she added, leaning into his touch as he stroked her wet cheek. "Harry, I don't know what I'm going to do yet, but I need to know I have your blessing to do it."

"You do," he said. "My selfishness aside, I just want you to be happy, Ruth. If that means you exiting the Grid –"

She cut him off with a kiss. "Shut up," Ruth whispered. "Just shush. Your wife is standing here, starkers, and you're just prattling on like you don't even notice."

"I'm counting backwards from a million," he said weakly, "trying not to lose control."

She looked up at him and said, "Harry Pearce, don't you dare push me away."

"I'm not – but dinner is almost ready and –"

"BUGGER DINNER."

Well, that came out so much harsher than she'd intended – and he looked shocked. Even moreso when she stepped forward and began unbuckling his belt. She wanted them to go back to normal, their normal. The normal where they made love in their spare moments together and played with Zoe and the dogs and the cat. The normal that had nothing to do with sorrow, grief, or pain – only simple, sweet joy.

She whispered, "Dinner will keep – I won't." Taking the initiative, she unbuttoned, then unzipped, his trousers, sneaking her hand inside his pants and stroking him. And then she kissed him.

If the floodgates had opened before, this was like Noah's proverbial flood charging through them at full speed. He fondled her, touched her in ways he hadn't in quite some time. She whimpered and moaned, biting at his full lips as they kissed, scratching his back and shoulders when he pressed his thigh just like that against her clit, making her sizzle with electric heat.

It should be humiliating that their desperation led to her being pressed against the bathroom door, her legs up around his hips, him balls deep inside her as they panted and moved, the pressure gaining strength. It should be cheap and tawdry and wrong. But it was him, it was her, it was right. There was nothing about their lovemaking that was anything but emotional benediction, a soothing of raw pain and fury against the cruelties of their world.

He swallowed her impassioned cries with his own, his fingers digging into her shoulders as he pressed her against the wall. She shuddered and stopped breathing for a moment, making him still and tense, losing control over himself for good.

One kiss, then another, soft and sweet, lacking the heat of moments before. They didn't need the words, not really. They both knew how they felt, in the aftermath, holding hands, fingers entwined, lower bodies still connected, lips connecting lazily.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"For what?"

"Doubting us."

He didn't press her for more information, and she was glad he didn't. He would only think she was bonkers.

* * *

The bed was comfortable, but moreso because Ruth was in his arms. He gave her a gentle kiss, respecting her weariness. Once Zoe was down for the night, he'd noticed how fragile Ruth looked, how tired and world-weary. He felt frustrated that she was caught between two masters because she was suffering for it.

He didn't want her to suffer. Not ever.

She murmured, "You are coming to the Queen's reception tomorrow, aren't you?"

"Of course –"

"I'll be hovering," she said quietly. "Not really partying or mingling."

"Who offered you the job? Towers?" Harry asked.

She shook her head and murmured, "Elizabeth. Her Majesty. Lyonesse." She sounded like she couldn't decide which designation to use. "I want to take it, Harry. I do. Things would be so much better if I did. But I don't want to leave the Grid – I don't want to leave you."

"Just because you leave Five doesn't mean you're leaving me," he whispered, tangling their fingers and legs together. "If you ever left me, I would die. I would simply cease to be."

"Give yourself some credit," she murmured. "You'd survive –"

"Three years without you nearly did me in," he whispered. "I seriously contemplated drastic action if I couldn't find you." Harry didn't tell her about the alcohol, the sleepless nights, the anxiousness, the worry, the panic attacks, the pills, the anti-depressants, the night when he botched up killing himself by taking an overdose of his anti-depressants (irony) and instead only ended up sleeping for two days straight. He couldn't tell her he was so weak where she was concerned. That Albany had brought all of it back with a force he couldn't reckon with.

But she was here, and they were healing together – or so he'd like to think.

Her fingers left his and idly began stroking his belly. Ever since she'd discovered he was slightly ticklish, she'd taken to doing that in an attempt to make him smile. She didn't realize that because it was her touch, it sent an erotic thrill through him. And, to his annoyance, his dick was ruining a perfectly good cuddle by rising to the occasion.

She didn't seem to mind, just let her fingers wander down his body till she curled her hand around his length, stroking him and smiling. Everything in him focused on her touch, and he felt blood pounding through his veins. Her hands were small, cool, but capable, and she had him erect in just a few moments. "Ruth," he exhaled.

"As much as I love door sex," she teased, "I'm getting a little old for it." She hiked up the hem of her nightie a bit and straddled his pelvis, moaning and biting her lip as she sank down on him. He worried briefly if she was ready for him, but she took him to the hilt easily and she was already very wet. He wondered, sometimes, what was going through her head – and if that was any indication, he'd better step up his game.

"Me, too," he agreed as she leaned down to kiss him, starting to move her hips.

He loved it when she was on top; her breasts were always within reach and he had a perfect view of her pleasure. It made him feel more manly to be used like this – why, he didn't know – but he thought it might have to do with his normally reticent wife taking all of him and demanding more, demanding her satisfaction as well as his.

He liked when she was dominant over him.

Maybe it was that simple. She was the boss, after all, once they left the Grid.

It was quick, beautiful, and they both smothered the sounds of release with hungry kisses, not wanting to disturb Graham or the baby. She slumped forward against his chest and whispered, "Tell me what you want me to do, Harry."

"Be happy," were all the words he could think to string together.

* * *

Early in the wee hours – five-ish – they sat at the breakfast nook, eating toast and eggs, drinking tea. "I love you," she whispered.

"And I love you," he whispered back.

She finished her breakfast and got up. He finished his breakfast and stood, as well. They walked out to the cars together, and paused for a not-hesitant in the slightest kiss that meant that after the reception, there would be so much more waiting at home for them.

END PART TWENTY-FOUR


	25. Chapter 25

Twenty-five:  
First Moment of Absolute Truth

There was a moment when Harry wasn't certain where he was, then it all came flooding back with the pain in his belly, Ruth's utter panic as she shouted for Sir Alec Quinn – the Queen's personal doctor – to make himself bloody well useful already. "Harry," she breathed, pressing her hands against his wound. "Don't you dare leave me – don't you dare."

He exhaled shakily, felt his breathing become unsteady. But she was there, and he could hold on just a while longer…

* * *

Ruth almost let out a cry of victory, but held it in. She'd found the mole – irrevocably, utterly, found the bloody mole. Gerald Jones, a former employee of GCHQ, now working as one of the server techs in charge of security. He'd sold them out – directly to the FSB. The deposits were there, the shoddy coverup, everything. He was clearly too stupid to realize that she was going to bury him alive.

Immediately, she got on the phone. "Delta. Tango. Foxtrot. Alpha," she said. "Lady Lazarus." She hung up and waited for her cell to ring. When it did, she snatched it up. "Harry."

"You found it, then?"

"Yes. This isn't internal anymore. Sasha Gavrik has access to everything, as the head of the Russian security detail," she said. "You're going to have to go after him immediately – and there's no guarantee that he hasn't already passed on the intelligence. We might already be too late," she whispered. "The mole is Gerald Jones."

"Thank you," he said, hanging up.

Ruth paused, then went back to work. She re-arranged a hair and makeup appointment so that they wouldn't possibly overlap with a briefing from the Foreign Secretary and the PM, then made a quick call to confirm the new times. She heard a scuffle a few minutes later and watched as Gerald Jones was led past her office in handcuffs – rather roughly and loudly – by Dimitri and another field agent.

She exhaled and closed her eyes, hoping that the danger was past.

The rest of the day was wrapped up in petty details with the protocol secretaries, hair and makeup, meetings with photographers and diplomats, and finally, it came time to change for the event itself. She was representing Her Majesty, but was expected to fade into the background unless called upon. So no extravagant evening gowns to attract Harry's eye.

She'd chosen a long black satin pencil skirt that was well-fitted through the seat and thighs, hemmed mid-calf in retro fifties style, covered in black and white embroidery. She wore a matching long, fitted satin blazer with matching embroidery, and a simple red camisole with black mesh overlay and a few sequins along the neckline edging. She was meant to carry a briefcase large enough to house a tablet computer, Her Majesty's medications, and emergency supplies. She slipped her firearm into the case and prayed she wouldn't need to open it.

She did her makeup quickly and efficiently, and when she was finished, she looked like she could just melt into the background of the reception and be unnoticed next to her betters. She didn't mind, not really – her heart just wouldn't be in it if she had to pretend to be happy to be a guest. At least she was earning her keep.

Ruth exhaled nervously and removed the tablet from the briefcase, carefully cradling it in her left elbow as she tapped out a sequence that would tie MI-5's bugs into her network link so she could track positioning of everyone. She smiled when she saw that it worked.

At least something in the bloody country worked properly.

She stayed on the fringes of the party, doing her duty and hovering just outside of the arm's reach of the Queen, taking in all of the small details around the room. Harry caught her eye at one point, inclining his head slightly, then winking, and going back to his conversation with the Ambassador from the United States. Ruth looked down at her tablet and frowned, wondering why Elena and Sasha Gavrik were hovering outside the main reception hall with a waiter.

Something niggled in the back of her brain. 'I think your drinks are unsavory…' It couldn't be that simple, could it? Ruth stepped forward and murmured, "Your Majesty, Minister Florin, please pardon the interruption. A matter of security has arisen. Will you please come with me for a moment, ma'am?"

The Queen did as she was asked, and Ruth said, "Have you drunk anything? Water, wine, champagne?"

"No," the Queen said.

"Don't," Ruth warned very softly. "It's imperative you listen to me. Someone is going to attempt to poison you. Do not eat or drink anything. Nothing at all. Do you understand? I need to step away to speak to my husband so he can pass the word on to the team."

"Are you certain poison will be the –"

Ruth paused, then nodded. "I am, ma'am," she said. She had never felt more certain of any one thing in her life – no one thing but that Harry loved her with all of his heart.

The Queen nodded stiffly, then said, "I suppose poison is old-fashioned."

"Effective," Ruth corrected. She caught the eye of one of the guards and motioned that he should take her place for a moment. She glided through the crowd and paused at Harry's side. "It's not Ilya," she said very quietly. "It's Elena. Poison. I'm certain, but I can't tell you how I know. I've warned Lyonesse."

"Return to your post, and pretend that we've just been discussing something very personal," he whispered in her ear.

She paused and murmured very quietly, "Be careful, Harry. Elena is dangerous, and Sasha moreso –"

"I know," he whispered. "But you're the one at Her Majesty's side. You're the one that must be careful."

She pulled back from his embrace and gave him a light kiss. "I love you," she murmured, disappearing back into the crowd until she was standing on the fringes again, watching her sovereign like a hawk.

Elena sidled up to Ruth and held out a glass of wine. "You seem so oddly removed from the party," she said by way of explanation.

"I am working," Ruth said coldly.

"I can see," Elena said, looking for all the world like a venomous snake waiting to strike at her prey. Ruth knew, knew right then, that the danger was so much more real than she'd assumed.

And she was within arm's reach of the Queen.

It took one second for the syringe to be visible, and two for Ruth to pull her weapon, firing the full clip into Elena before she could strike. The redhead stumbled back, one step, then two, then she collapsed onto the floor in a heap. Ruth just stared at her, her hands shaking as Sasha Gavrik screamed obscenities in Russian, training his weapon on her.

All that mattered now was that Lyonesse was being rushed from the scene – danger, harm, all averted.

Harry appeared out of nowhere, and it happened so fast – Sasha got two shots off. One hit Ruth's shoulder, the other made Harry double over and slump to the floor after he came between them. Erin blew Sasha's brains out with one well-placed shot… or so Ruth was told later. She was too focused on Harry, screaming at Dr. Quinn to do his job and fucking help him, ignoring her own pain, putting as much pressure onto his belly wound as she possibly could. "Harry, don't you dare leave me – don't you dare," she implored in little more than a breathless whisper.

They were separated by the medics, and she had a panic attack in the back of the ambulance on the way to the hospital. What if Harry died en route and she never –

He had jumped between her and an armed FSB officer and all she knew was that he had loved her so much as to protect her, to possibly give his life to save hers –

No one answered her questions once she was unloaded and in triage. When they put her under for surgery, she didn't know if he was alive or dead.

* * *

Harry came round, the morphine drip making his entire body feel heavy and beleaguered. He could barely move a finger, let alone his lips. "Dad, don't try to talk," Catherine said softly. "It's okay – it's going to be okay. I promise. You're going to be fine."

He tried very hard and rasped, "Ruth? Queen?"

"The Queen is safe," Catherine promised him. "Ruth is in the room next door, raising a fuss because she's not allowed painkillers."

He managed to raise a questioning eyebrow.

"She's pregnant, dad," Catherine said. "Almost six weeks. The doctors were freaking out because they put her under to remove the bullet from her shoulder, not knowing. She didn't even know."

His eyebrows shot up into his hairline. Six weeks… that had been when they'd fought about whether or not they should go away on holiday or stay home. And in the end, the question had still been unresolved – but the sex had been utterly fantastic. One of the few times they'd managed to get past their shells and move forward instead of staying stationary. He rasped, "Need her now."

"She's not in any state," Catherine said firmly. "And neither are you."

He grunted and grabbed her hand. "Please," he croaked.

Catherine sighed and squeezed his hand. "I'll see if they'll let her come over," she murmured.

Ten minutes – and a nap – later, and Harry felt Ruth's hand slip into his. "Harry, you get me into the worst situations," she whispered, her voice soft and gently scolding. "And then you get yourself hurt getting out of them."

He opened his eyes, squinting at the harsh light. "You shot Elena point blank," he rasped.

She shrugged and said, "I might have done, yeah. She was going to inject the Queen with a lethal cocktail of drugs and poison. What did you think I was going to do? Stand idly by?"

He reached up and stroked her cheek. "Brave," he croaked. He was so tired, the drugs keeping him weighted down. But he needed her to know – she had to know that he was so proud of her. She was so brave, so quick, so amazing.

"I killed her," she said very quietly. "I killed someone on purpose and I meant it. I don't want to be that person, Harry. I don't."

"BRAVE," he insisted forcefully. When she shook her head again, he grabbed her hand and squeezed it hard. "Yes," he declared. He released her hand and reached over, his fingers brushing against her belly. "Brave."

She started to cry a little and she whispered, "Scared, not brave."

He tried to push away the morphine fog so he could concentrate, but that wasn't happening. Neither was speaking. All he could do was hold her hand. Fortunately, she understood, and let him relax and slip back into sleep.

* * *

They released her, and instead of going home, Ruth settled in at Harry's bedside. They had decreased his pain medication, so he was a little more alert than he had been. "Hello," she murmured, leaning over and giving him a kiss. "You silly, stupid man, I love you."

"I love you," he whispered, reaching for her hand. "You were very brave," Harry said gently. "So very brave."

"I was terrified," she admitted, gesturing at her shoulder with her head. "Look where my trouble got me."

He squeezed her hand again. "Take the job offer," he said.

"Harry –"

"You and the little one will be safe," he said.

She paused and sighed. "I didn't know," she whispered. "I promise I didn't –"

"I know," he replied. Simple, succinct. "But you were fearless, regardless. You saved Her Majesty. No one else."

She couldn't tell him that every time she heard a loud noise, she lost her mind. It wouldn't do. "I did my duty," she said softly. "That's all."

A voice from the doorway broke in. "Sir Harry, Dame Ruth," the Queen said by way of greeting. "Don't attempt to rise – stay where you are. I merely wanted to visit and bring you these…" One of her aides came in with a huge bouquet of flowers. "And to tell you that, for my part, I am more than grateful for your fortitude and service to the Crown. I am resurrecting a title from my ancestors – the Duke and Duchess of Albany."

Harry barked with laughter. "A reminder of that which wasn't meant to be spoken of again?"

"No," the Queen said. "A gesture of reminder that we are all human and we all have a great capacity for love… and folly."

Ruth nodded, understanding. "Your Majesty," she said softly, "I'd like to take you up on your job offer as soon as I'm released from doctor's watch."

"It will be an honor, Ruth, to have you in my employ," the Queen said with a fond smile. "And the conferrence of the title and lands of Albany is a sign of respect from the Crown to you. Not a sentence of torture." She turned on her heel and left as quickly as she'd come.

Harry said, "I think you'll be happy at the Palace."

"As long as I can come home to you, I will be incredibly happy," she whispered. "Your Grace," she added as a teasing afterthought.

"I can't tell the Queen we're sufficiently ennobled, can I?" he asked in a dismal tone.

"Not so much, no," she murmured, giving him a kiss.

END PART TWENTY-FIVE


	26. Chapter 26

Twenty-six:  
First Day, Redux

They'd both taken leave – his paid, hers unpaid – for the duration of Harry's recovery. The quiet domesticity of their lives didn't go unnoticed, and Harry found himself pining for things to be simpler, better, sweeter for their family. They talked into the night about things – everything, nothing, their hopes, their desires, their dreams – and he'd never felt so pleased. It may have taken a bullet to bring things to a head, but now they were calm.

It took two months before they allowed him to return to desk duty. By that point, they'd had scans of the baby, planned for a second crib and all kinds of new baby things, told Graham and Catherine the good news… and he was content to see that Ruth was already showing. She, of course, was not so pleased, but she had yet to experience any form of morning sickness or more weariness than normal. It was a trade off, then – early showings and higher sex drive for no illness or extra tiredness.

And Harry was only too happy to oblige Ruth's appetites. He was currently speaking breathless, low phrases of love to his wife in French – liberally peppered with vulgar Latin and English – as he circled his thumb over her clitoris. For her part, her eyes were rolled back in her head as her hips moved, each motion making his fingers slide deeper into her, impassioned words in languages he didn't understand spilling from her lips. He wasn't cleared for sexual activity yet, but getting her off definitely kept that domestic side of things chugging along patiently. Besides, he loved the noises she made when he sucked on the birthmark so very close to –

She gasped and shuddered, a hoarse cry tearing itself from her throat as her inner walls clamped around his fingers. He smirked and pressed a kiss to her belly. "Better?" Harry asked when she began to breathe again.

Ruth moaned softly and whispered, "Yes… much."

He withdrew and cleaned himself up before bringing her a damp washcloth. "I'm not looking forward to tomorrow," Harry said, gently cleaning her up. "Being on the Grid without you."

"I know," she whispered. "But change can be good, yes?"

He sighed and kissed her inner thigh. "Yes," he said, though he didn't really mean it. "Change can be good." He remembered a day so many years ago when she'd waltzed into his life, carrying an armload of files and dropping them everywhere. She had been a welcome change, a change that had swept him off his feet and carried him along the currents to where they were now. The idea of not having her there on the Grid was alien, foreign, wrong. Like her exile had been.

"Harry," she said softly, "I won't forget you. Or the team. Just because I'm not there doesn't mean that I don't love you, or them." She twined their fingers together and pulled him down onto the bed beside her. They curled up together and just lay, listening to each other breathing. "To be honest, I'm nervous myself. I don't know what to expect."

He gave her a gentle kiss. "From what I hear, the preparations for your arrival have been extensive," he said. "Lyonesse and the Protocol Secretaries have been overseeing things very closely, and Erin has been running herself ragged interviewing for your PA."

Ruth snorted a little. "Imagine a Personal Assistant to the Queen having a personal assistant," she said. "It's really quite ridiculous."

"No, I think it's practical," he said. "On any given day, you might be inundated with a thousand things that need doing and you can only do so many."

"You don't have a PA," she pointed out.

He paused for a long moment, then blushed. "I had you," he said simply. And it was truth; he'd not had any need for a personal assistant because Ruth had so often gladly stepped in and picked up his slack. Now he wouldn't have her and he would either have to find someone to fill the void or he would be spending a lot more time on the Grid than at home with his family.

"Ah, well…" She blushed a little, too. "I had an ulterior motive for getting your things done for you. Mostly in that I wanted you to be home."

"Yes, I know," he whispered. "Erin's been interviewing for a PA for me, as well. At my request. It's not fair with a small child to put in many extra hours that could be avoided. The DG thinks it extravagant, but once he met Zoe the other day, I think he understands my desire to be at home."

"I can't believe she's walking," Ruth said, changing the conversation about face.

"Running," Harry corrected. "And it wasn't that long ago that she was looking up at us with those big blue eyes and I wondered if I might accidentally drop her, she was so small."

Ruth smiled. "Yes," she agreed softly. "That thought crossed my mind more than once."

He gave her another gentle kiss. "We'll make things work," he promised. "So we can spend time with Zoe and each other."

"The fact that you're even trying makes me love you ever so much more," she whispered against his lips. "And you and Zoe and this little one already fill my heart to overflowing with love. I can't possibly hold anymore."

He smiled and rubbed her bare skin. "Ah, yes," he agreed. "I feel some days like I might burst with bliss."

Her smile faded and she murmured, "Should we have a right to be so happy, Harry? After all that's happened, I mean."

"Of course," he said firmly. "Carpe diem. Always."

* * *

Ruth smoothed her dress and hoped that she looked all right. Harry had insisted she wear the simple navy dress and blazer with her grey tights and her comfortable low boots. Simple, professional, elegant, and comfortable. He'd already noticed that her feet were sore and swollen after their trip to the zoo with Zoe the day before, and had been very firm about her comfort on her first day at work.

She had her purse (filled to brimming with her personal things), and her briefcase (filled with her tablet, laptop, and several translation guides – German, Spanish, Swedish, and Dutch). She had her photos of Zoe and Harry that she kept on her desk, and her favorite tea mug. And she had Dexter, the little flowering plant Harry had given her for her desk several days after she'd started at Section D. Dexter had thrived on Harry's desk during her exile, and now he was going to a new home.

She was ready.

She got out her ID badge and showed it to security, who ushered her through the daily sign-in, thumbprint verification, and possession search that she would be forced to endure every time she entered or left the Palace. As the Queen's Personal Assistant: Political Advisor, Ruth knew she would be coming and going with alacrity and she hoped that she'd get better about the whole security sweep. As it was, the guard was eyeing Dexter with mistrust.

"That's Dexter," Ruth said lamely. "He lives on my desk – a gift from my husband many years ago." The guard poked around the plant's roots till he was satisfied that it was just a plant, then turned her over to a young man with dark hair and striking blue eyes. "Hello," Ruth said, holding out her hand, dropping her purse in the process. "I'm Ruth Pearce."

"Your Grace, I'm Alistair Whatley," the young man introduced. "I am responsible for attaining anything you might need during the course of business hours. Officially, I am the refreshments steward for the Queen's PAs on staff. I was sent to take you to your office. May I help you with your bags?"

"Oh, yes, please," Ruth agreed eagerly. "How long have you been on staff?"

He regarded her with suspicion. "Two years," he said.

"Ah," she said. "Well, I'm sure it's a lovely place to work – I'm just coming out of Five's anti-terrorism unit, so I hope it will be a good change of pace."

"You worked for Five?" Alistair asked, raising an eyebrow.

Ruth nodded and smiled. "My old boss says I'm a born spook," she teased. "Now, of course, I have been married to him for some time… so he might just be flattering me." She handed Alistair her equipment bag and the smaller box of her necessaries. She kept her purse and the larger box – which had a photo of Harry and Zoe in an unguarded moment cheesing for the camera right up on top.

Alistair regarded her gravely, then said, "Come with me, please."

She found herself determined to ruffle his feathers and get that stick out of his arse. It might take some time, but she'd conquered the great Harry Pearce, hadn't she? "So… all I know is that I've got an office," Ruth said cheerfully. "I'm assuming that means I've got a door to close."

"Yes, Your Grace," he replied. "Your office has already been furnished to the Queen's wishes, but if you have any complaints, you can direct them to the head of household and things will be changed to suit you a bit more."

"All right," Ruth said, keeping up with his brisk pace. "Blimey, it's not a race, Alistair!"

"Her Majesty will be making her morning rounds in about ten minutes and you're meant to be in your office," he said.

Ruth fell silent, following him. As they went through the corridors, she found herself being stared at and whispered about, and she couldn't possibly be arsed to care. "Sir Richard," she greeted warmly, extending her hand to her boss. "Good to work with you again." Before, when she'd been acting as PA, she'd been kept isolated from the group, working directly with him.

"Your Grace," Sir Richard Hawkins greeted with a smile. "Welcome back to the fold. Alistair, please get a raspberry scone and a spiced chai, light milk for Ruth. I'll take you to your office so you may settle in – and then you and I have a meeting with Her Majesty at eleven to discuss your role here."

"Sounds good," she said as Alistair passed off her belongings to Richard. He led her down the corridor, third door on the right from the main office. A small brass plaque on the wall was engraved with her name, official title, and below that was her job title. She thought briefly that at Christmas, she might have to put up a wreath on her office door, since Harry would never let her have one at home.

Richard opened the door and gestured for her to step in before him. She did and gasped. "Oh, it's lovely! Thank you –"

"I only oversaw the installation," he said with a smile. "Her Majesty and Erin Watts from Five did the rest."

Everything was delicate and classical, very feminine, right down to the soft floral wallpaper. It totally belied the fact that Ruth was a hardened pragmatist and completely hard-lined intelligence gatherer. All the better to grill her suspects with. She loved it! There was even a window that overlooked the gardens, and a chaise lounge. She reminded herself to call Erin later and share her effusive gratitude.

Richard set her box and bag down on the desk, and she did the same. "I shall have to bring some of my library here to fill those shelves," she said with a smile. "My goodness – I'm a bit overwhelmed."

Alistair came in with her tea and scone, then retreated again as Richard showed her how the phone system worked, how to get an outside line, and how to contact the Queen directly. "Now," Richard said, "only you and I have access to her direct line. And the reason you do is because of what you've done."

"I shan't abuse it," Ruth promised.

"I'll leave you to settle, then," Richard said. "I think we'll get on famously – there's a staff meeting at four to introduce you to everyone."

"Meeting with the Queen at eleven, staff meeting at four – and inbetween?"

"Check your diary," he said, gesturing at the planner on her desk, a slim volume covered in red leather. "Today has already been penned in."

When he left, she checked the diary, and winced. Meeting at Six with Michael Wiltshire at noon. Meeting with William Towers at one. Meeting with the DG of Five at two. Meeting with Harry Pearce at three… She blushed a little. Oh dear, he'd had to make an appointment?

There was a knock on the door and a young woman poked her head in. "Oh, hello, you've got here okay, then, Your Grace?"

"Please, call me Ruth," Ruth said with a smile.

"Oh, aye – I'm Agnes Glenn, your assistant, ma'am," the tiny blonde with a big smile and sparkling eyes said. "Would you like some help unpacking?" Her brogue was very thick, but Ruth had no trouble understanding her.

"Oh, yes, please," Ruth sighed. "I have some questions, too –"

"Oh, of course," Agnes said with a smile, coming over and helping pull things out of the boxes and bags. "What do you want to know?"

"Are you in charge of my schedule?" Ruth asked.

"Aye," Agnes replied cheerfully.

"Well, I must ask about today's schedule –"

"We're a bit light today, seeing as it's your first day," Agnes said. "Tomorrow's fully solid and Wednesday we're running on half hours instead of fulls. And you've got the JIC meeting on Wednesday night."

"No, that's not what I meant," Ruth said. "Harry Pearce is booked from three till three-thirty."

"Oh, aye, he called and asked for me to pencil him in where it was convenient for you and you'd be close to Thames House," Agnes said. "The staff meeting usually doesn't get started till five anyway. Sir Richard is always in meetings till four-thirty."

"My husband doesn't need to make an appointment," Ruth said firmly. "If he waltzes in here in a kilt, singing Ave Maria and quoting Hamlet, call security. But… he doesn't need an appointment."

"He said to meet him at the bench, whatever that means," Agnes said.

Ruth hid a smile. "Please tell me I have a lunch penciled in here somewhere?" she said.

"Um… no, there's not one –"

Ruth scowled. "All right, well, first order of business: I need a thirty minute lunch break, and several snack breaks during the day," she said. "I'm sure His Grace called to make sure I had thirty minutes so that he could feed me."

"Your Grace –"

"Ruth," Ruth corrected.

"Meetings are –"

Ruth put her hands on her hips and said, "Agnes, it might have escaped your attentions, but I'm pregnant. There will be lunch and breaks penned in. Do you understand?"

Agnes fell silent and paled a little. "Yes, ma'am," she said quietly.

"Thank you," Ruth said. "I'm sure no one told you I was expecting or that would've already been taken care of, correct?"

Agnes shuffled from one foot to the other. "Yes, ma'am. Are you very cross? I can call and reschedule –"

"No, meetings with Six and Five are hard to come by," Ruth said. "Don't worry about it. I'll… grab something along the way and eat in the car."

Agnes murmured, "I'm sorry – if I'd have known –"

"Well," Ruth said gently, "now you know and we can plan accordingly, right?"

"Does His Grace mind much if I tag along?" Agnes asked. "I'll be at your meeting with the DG, I mean, so I'll be with you –"

Ruth smiled a little and said, "I'm sure he won't mind, Agnes. He'll mostly be worried about me and the baby and if I've eaten enough to last till we get home and have dinner with the kids."

"Pardon me asking, but –"

"Harry has two children from his first marriage," Ruth said, "and we have Zoe, who's just about a year old now. And this little one who is making mummy very hungry for that scone and tea." She crossed over to where Alistair had left the treats. She took a bite and moaned happily. "Yes, that hits the spot exactly."

Agnes looked at the plant and said, "Where would you like this put, ma'am?"

"Just… on the desk," Ruth said softly. "It's name is Dexter. It was a gift from Harry when we were just colleagues. A very long time ago."

"You named a plant Dexter?"

"I didn't expect it to live very long," Ruth admitted. "And then… it just… it did. And it flowered. And… yeah. Dexter lives on my desk and is a happy little plant." She smiled at Agnes as the door opened. "Oh, hello, come in – Your Majesty, good morning. I didn't expect to see you this morning…"

The Queen smiled. "I try to stop in and say hello after reading the red dispatches every morning," she said. "Good morning, Agnes."

Agnes curtsied and smiled. "Good morning, ma'am."

"How are you and Ruth getting on, then?" the Queen inquired.

Agnes said very brightly, "Oh, we're getting on famously, ma'am. She's got a very nice family and a plant called Dexter for her desk."

Ruth resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow. Well, at least the kid could move on from a hurt quickly. Considering some of the meetings and people she'd be forced to deal with, she was going to need that ability for good rather than evil.

The Queen said, "Ruth, we'll have that meeting at eleven to clarify your job duties and such – I assume it's been penned in your diary."

"Yes, ma'am," Ruth replied, dipping a slight curtsey.

The Queen reached out and drew her back up to her feet. "You saved my life," she said. "Deference isn't necessary except in public, Ruth."

Ruth hesitated, and slowly nodded. "Yes, Your Majesty," she said. "I understand that you and Erin Watts designed my office – thank you. I love it. And once my photos and books are here, it will be even better." She smiled.

"I am glad," the Queen said. "Eleven," she said as a reminder before she slipped back into the corridor.

"Blimey, imagine not having to curtsey to the Queen!" Agnes gasped when she was gone.

"I suppose that's what happens when you shoot a clip full of ammunition into a would-be assassin," Ruth said in a wry tone.

Agnes looked at her, askance. "They said you're an intelligence officer –"

Ruth smirked. "They would, wouldn't they?" she said in a carefully mysterious way.

* * *

Harry sat on their bench overlooking the Thames and the Houses of Parliament across the way, hoping that Ruth's secretary had communicated the message of where to meet. The girl seemed nice enough, but she wasn't exactly the brightest bulb in the sign. He was just about to give up when Ruth plopped down beside him and said, "If you don't have tea and a biscuit, I'm going to divorce you on principle."

He smiled over and said, "You're late."

"Aye," came another voice. "Her meeting with the DG ran over." A tiny little blonde woman sat down on Ruth's other side, squishing them altogether on the bench. "You must be Sir Harry, His Grace the –"

"Harry," he said in a clipped tone.

"Harry, Agnes, my PA," Ruth introduced. "Agnes, Harry, my husband. No titles and rigamarole, okay? We're just Harry and Ruth."

"Pleasure," Harry grunted. He was a little annoyed that Ruth would bring Agnes along, but maybe she hadn't a choice in the matter. "I brought a Moroccan mint tea and your favorite lamb pasty. The one with mint and yogurt in."

Ruth leaned over and gave him a kiss. "I love you," she murmured. "So much. I'm bloody starving right now."

"I'll go get a coffee, then," Agnes said cheerfully. "It was nice to meet you, Harry. I'm sure we'll be seeing a lot of each other."

Harry made a non-committal reply as Agnes headed toward the coffee shop.

"Be nice," Ruth said with her mouth full. "She tries so hard."

"She's just so bloody young," he sighed. "They all are."

"We're practically dinosaurs," she teased, snuggling up against his side. "It's all right, Harry – we're the old guard, and soon enough, it'll be time for us to retire to the country and be cranky old people screaming at the kids to get out of our garden."

"That sounds better and better every day," he said softly.

"Mmhmm," she agreed. "You know what my job is?"

"Not so much, no…"

"I'm Her Majesty's eyes and ears. I gather relevant information from all branches of the Security Services and collate it into a weekly report for her eyes only." She laughed a little. "Can you believe that? My entire week is full up of meetings with men whose heads are so far up their arses that they can't see daylight, and then I cherry pick the information the Queen needs to know. It's rather like being demoted and then being showered with coins. I don't understand why… why I'm here. Why I'm doing this."

"Because it's safe," Harry said softly, his hand coming to rest on her abdomen. "Because neither of us wants for the Service to chew you up and spit you out."

She sighed and kept eating. He was worried about her; she looked quite tired and frustrated. To be honest, if he could have her job instead of his, he would leap at the chance. But he understood her frustration. When she'd polished off the pie and most of her tea, she said, "I asked Graham to pick up a curry tonight. It sounded good." She put her hand over his, where it was splayed over her belly.

"It does sound good," he agreed.

"I'm sorry if I sounded ungrateful a few minutes ago – it was my hunger and my irritation at being talked down to by Michael Wiltshire for an hour followed by Towers and the DG… all of whom seem to think that I'm a bloody fool. Despite me acting on Her Majesty's behalf. And Towers was sneering into the neckline of my dress. Will you please sort him out before I do something that will have security on me?" She rambled, and he just listened, smiling and rubbing her belly. He liked it when she rambled nonsensically. It was such a very Ruth thing to do.

"I will kick him in the arse, my love," he said softly.

She exhaled a sigh. "I needed this – needed you," she murmured. "It's so odd to not have you just across the way."

"That feeling is very mutual," he said. He'd been a right bear all day, knowing that she wouldn't be there to sneak into his office. He wouldn't be able to joke about fitting her with a cowbell anymore. He'd had to stop himself from going out and asking her for the latest information about the operation…

He'd never expected for it to hurt so much, her being off the Grid.

They stayed like that on the bench, snuggled up, holding hands and smiling, until Agnes came up with her cuppa and a sad expression. "Sorry, but I've just had a call from Sir Richard wondering where we are. I told him we would be a little late because we've not left Thames House yet."

Ruth sat up and sighed, giving him a gently tender kiss on the lips. "I'll see you for supper, darling," she murmured. "I've got a humiliating staff meeting to go to."

Agnes laughed. "It won't be that bad," she promised. "Sir Richard is just going to introduce you to everybody –"

Harry chuckled. To Ruth, that was like a death sentence without chance of parole. "Good luck, my love," he said softly. "May it be better than your first staff meeting at D."

She nudged him in the ribs. "Not fair," she pouted.

"Go to work, love," he murmured. "I'm going back to my office to train my PA how to read my writing."

Ruth laughed and kissed him again. "Good luck with that – it took me years."

He sat alone on the bench for quite some time, hoping that the next day would be easier.

END PART TWENTY-SIX


	27. Chapter 27

Twenty-seven:  
First Abrupt Shock

Ruth frowned as she looked at the time. He was going to be late; she didn't want him to be late. It was still early days and she needed him to be close if something was wrong. She was sitting in the waiting room at the doctor's, waiting to have her five month scan done. She needed Harry there, despite whatever damn crisis was going on. Maybe in spite of it.

It had been hard enough to schedule an hour for this, and Agnes had cajoled, begged, and even threatened the usual suspects until she'd gotten that free hour. Two weeks into the job, the overbearing asshole men of Six and the Foreign Offices were finally beginning to realize that Ruth was smarter than she looked. Trade a favor now, get one later. And the health of the baby was paramount.

Ruth sighed and rubbed her belly. "I wonder where daddy's got himself to," she murmured. "He knows he's meant to be here."

Five minutes more went by and she was passing glad that the OBGYN was running late, so at least she didn't have to feel too guilty for inquiring as to how much longer. She called Agnes and said, "Aggie, you're going to have to cancel my four o'clock. The doctor is running late. Have you heard from Harry?"

"No," Agnes said quietly. "I'm sorry – I can call over to his office again, but Melisandre is very adamant that he's out."

Ruth grunted. Melisandre, the drop dead gorgeous PA with perfect teeth, a perfect figure, and a grasp of what appeared to be good politics. She already hated her on principle, but she hated her even more now that she didn't know where Harry was. He wasn't picking up his office phone, his primary mobile or the secondary – private – mobile. She had a sick feeling that something was terribly wrong.

"No, don't call his office again," Ruth sighed. "Let me do that. I'll have Melisandre's guts for garters in about ten minutes if he's not here in time for the scan." She hung up and started fidgeting with the shoulder strap of her bag.

If he wasn't picking up, he could be meeting an asset. He could be on his way to hospital. He could be dead. Or he could be having an affair.

The shoulder strap went taut and almost snapped. Ruth realized what she was doing and tried to calm down as a thousand horrible scenarios – each worse than the last – tumbled about in her brain, making her feel sick to her stomach. The worst was imagining Miss Perfect Melisandre with her perfect legs wrapped around Harry. If he was dead, she'd carry on – but if he was shagging her, she'd kill him.

She dialed his office and got the gratingly pleasant voice of Melisandre down the line. "Harry Pearce's office," Melisandre said. Ruth wanted to throttle her for being so pleasant.

"Melisandre, where the hell is my husband?" Ruth spat. "He's meant to be at the doctor's… fifteen minutes ago."

There was a pause. "You know I can't disclose operational information, even if you are the Queen's advisor."

"I swear to god, if he isn't here by the time I go in for my scan –"

Another pause, then a hurried, very quiet, "He's meeting an asset. He went dark. I don't know where he is. I promise, Your Grace, I don't know."

"So he could be lying somewhere, dead, and no one would know?" Ruth asked.

"He's got an emergency tracker on –"

Ruth's laugh was bitter. "Oh, ye of great faith and naivety," she muttered. "Look, if he comes round to you first, tell him that I'm very pissed off at him. And that he can bloody well sleep on the sofa tonight."

One point in her favor: Melisandre knew enough to agree when Ruth was upset. "Yes, ma'am."

Ruth cut off the line and looked up as the nurse called out, "Pearce?"

"Ah, yes, that's me," Ruth said, standing up and gathering her bags. She'd been completely booked for the day and this was cutting off a meeting with the British Ambassador to Sri Lanka, who was on furlough. She was going to kill someone – be it the doctors or Harry. Maybe she should go midaeval on Melisandre? The list was too long.

She changed into her hospital top and sighed, wishing Harry was there. These things always made her so nervous that there would be a problem. She hated doctors and hospitals with a passion after her time in the Service, and though this was a necessary evil…

She and the doctor went over the normal things and the niceties, and Ruth was pleased – for once – that she was putting on weight. The doctor was pleased with her progress and lack of major issues. So was she.

Harry burst in, looking wind-blown and disheveled just as they began the scan. "I'm so sorry, Ruth –"

"Please tell me it was worth it," Ruth said, her voice frosting over.

"Yes," was all he would say, attempting to hide the blood on his cuffs. She looked up at him with panic in her eyes, but he shook his head once. "I'll tell you what I can later," Harry promised. "Now –"

The doctor was smiling at them. "Now," she said, putting the wand down against Ruth's belly. "This is your baby's heartbeat. Very strong and healthy."

"There's an echo," Harry said.

"Oh, no," the doctor said, moving the wand just a bit more. "And that's also your baby's heartbeat – also quite strong and healthy. There are two amniotic sacs, two heartbeats –"

Ruth inhaled sharply. "Twins?"

"Twins?" Harry echoed her weakly, looking like he might keel over. Blood on his cuffs and god knows what else didn't faze him, but the idea of twins made him faint?

Actually, the idea of twins was going to make RUTH faint.

"Yes, twins –"

"I'm too old for twins," Ruth gasped, suddenly feeling quite claustrophobic .

"Actually, the incidence of naturally occurring twin conceptions goes up with age," the doctor said cheerfully. "You're only 43, Mrs. Pearce, not completely over the hill."

Ruth stared at Harry, scared to know what he was actually thinking. "Harry, say something," she breathed, not liking his completely gobsmacked look. "HARRY."

He spun his attention to her and said, "We're going to need another crib."

Ruth burst into tears. "You stupid old man – this is all your fault! Let's go on holiday, you said; let's not, I said. Let's squabble and then fuck for hours making up and pretending that things were okay – AND NOW LOOK AT ME. I'm up the duff with twins! I hope you're happy!"

Harry grabbed her hand and squeezed it tightly. "I am," he said very softly. "Ruth, I'm so happy. Listen to me – whatever you're thinking I might be upset about, the baby… the babies… aren't that. I promise."

She sniffled and swiped at her eyes with her free hand. "Oh god, there's going to be three under the age of two running around. How is Graham going to cope?"

The doctor cleared her throat and said, "I'll just go get copies of your screen captures made so you can share them." She left the room, leaving Harry and Ruth to attempt to comfort each other.

"I never thought finding out about twins would feel like finding out that the baby was unwell," Harry confessed. "I didn't think twins –"

"That's why I'm so fat already," Ruth muttered, pushing him away and sitting up to clean herself up and get her clothes back on. "Because I've got two of you residing in here, sucking up all the food."

"You're not fat," Harry sighed.

"I am," she said. "Especially when that skinny cow is spinning around your office doing god knows what –"

"Jealous of Mel?" Harry said. "Ruth, come now –"

"At least I get some satisfaction in knowing that she didn't know where you were, either," she spat.

"Oh for god's sake," he huffed. "Give me some credit – if I was going to cheat on you, it wouldn't be with the secretary. That's so clichéd it's painful."

"She's pretty and perfect and not at all frumpy and fat like me," Ruth said snarkily. "And yes, I'm jealous of the bitch because she has your days now, and I don't." Her heart thundered in her ears at the admission. "Damn it, Harry – twins. What are we going to do?"

"We're going to have two babies instead of one," he said firmly, "and we're going to love them and take care of them, just as if we were only having one. What do you think we're going to do?"

She exhaled and whispered, "Are you pleased with yourself?"

"Why?"

"Because you managed to knock me up twice in one go?"

He rolled his eyes. "In case you hadn't noticed, this is not the first time we've had this little issue of my sperm being incredibly talented," he muttered.

"Yeah, good thing you're not having an affair," she muttered in reply. "God knows how many little Harrys and Harriets would be running around." She got her blouse back on and sat there, frowning. She didn't like being jealous – and she didn't like being made to feel jealous.

"Please let's not fight about this," he said gently. "We're meant to be happy right now –"

"I'm in bloody shock," Ruth whispered. "Two, Harry? We can barely manage Zoe. How are we going to manage with three?"

He kissed her temple and said, "We will manage. Stop worrying so much."

The doctor came back in with the scan images, and Ruth sighed as she looked at them, concrete evidence of her multiples pregnancy in her hands.

He put his arm around her shoulders and murmured, "Let's go home. Bugger everything else for the day if it's not an emergency. We clearly need some time together and with Zoe."

She couldn't agree more.

* * *

Harry didn't have time to change his shirt; Ruth was just going to have to deal with him showing up with blood-stained cuffs. He hated that his asset had been taken out during their meeting, but he'd stayed with the young woman until she'd died, knowing that she had no one else to protect her. It was a professional hit, and it made him nervous about his family's safety. Of course, everything made him nervous about their safety. That's why they'd installed such a high-tech security system.

He burst into the doctor's office and barked, "Ruth Pearce –"

The other women in the room, in varying states of pregnancy and non-pregnancy just stared at him.

Harry sighed and tried again. "My wife is here for her appointment – Ruth Pearce."

"Oh, yes, of course," the receptionist said with a smile. "Come through, Mr. Pearce."

He burst into the room, feeling a bit of a wreck – and looking it, if Ruth's expression was any indication. "I'm so sorry, Ruth –"

"Please tell me it was worth it," Ruth said, her voice frosting over.

"Yes," was all he said, attempting to hide the blood on his cuffs. She looked up at him with panic in her eyes, but he shook his head once. "I'll tell you what I can later," Harry promised. "Now –"

The doctor was smiling at them. "Now," she said, putting the wand down against Ruth's belly. "This is your baby's heartbeat. Very strong and healthy." Harry knew that sound, that happy low wooshing noise that meant the baby was doing well. But there was a bit around the edge that didn't sound the same.

"There's an echo," Harry said.

"Oh, no," the doctor said, moving the wand just a bit more. "And that's also your baby's heartbeat – also quite strong and healthy. There are two amniotic sacs, two heartbeats –"

Ruth inhaled a sharp gasp. Harry thought he might well have done, as well. "Twins?" she croaked.

"Twins?" Harry echoed her weakly. He felt like he might be faint; he'd never in a million years expected to hear that he was going to have two for the price of one. Shit, that sounded callous, like he'd gone and got lucky at the market on sale eggs. Shit, that wasn't what he meant. He mentally kicked himself. Twins? Twins. All right, then.

"Yes, twins –"

"I'm too old for twins," Ruth gasped. Harry knew the feeling. If she was too old, he was practically in the grave.

"Actually, the incidence of naturally occurring twin conceptions goes up with age," the doctor said cheerfully. "You're only 43, Mrs. Pearce, not completely over the hill." No, but Harry was.

Ruth stared at Harry. "Harry, say something," she breathed, not liking his completely gobsmacked look. "HARRY."

What could he say, really? What wouldn't make it all that much worse? He spun his attention to her and said, "We're going to need another crib." Ah, yes, maybe that wasn't what he should have said; the look on her face was heartbreaking.

Ruth burst into tears. "You stupid old man – this is all your fault! Let's go on holiday, you said; let's not, I said. Let's squabble and then fuck for hours making up and pretending that things were okay – AND NOW LOOK AT ME. I'm up the duff with twins! I hope you're happy!"

Oh yes, they had fucked for hours – and he had the faint scar on his wrist from pulling against his restraints to prove it. She'd tied him to the headboard and ridden him mercilessly till he'd agreed to run away to Scotland with her for a weekend. The fact that they hadn't actually made it yet just meant he'd have to work on his timing. TWINS, BLIMEY. All because she wanted to go north.

Harry grabbed her hand and squeezed it tightly. "I am," he said very softly. "Ruth, I'm so happy. Listen to me – whatever you're thinking I might be upset about, the baby… the babies… aren't that. I promise."

She sniffled and swiped at her eyes with her free hand. "Oh god, there's going to be three under the age of two running around. How is Graham going to cope?"

God only knew. The same way they would cope, he hoped.

The doctor cleared her throat and said, "I'll just go get copies of your screen captures made so you can share them." She left the room, leaving Harry and Ruth to attempt to comfort each other.

"I never thought finding out about twins would feel like finding out that the baby was unwell," Harry confessed. "I didn't think twins –" He really hadn't thought at all, to be honest, beyond the wish to know that the baby was still doing well. He was absolutely gobsmacked that they could possibly have conceived twice in short go.

"That's why I'm so fat already," Ruth muttered, pushing him away and sitting up to clean herself up and get her clothes back on. "Because I've got two of you residing in here, sucking up all the food."

"You're not fat," Harry sighed. She wasn't. Her bump was noticeable, but not overwhelming, and she practically glowed like the sun shone out her. She was more beautiful than he'd ever seen and he still had fleeting moments of wondering what she was doing with a run-down old sod like him.

"I am," she said. "Especially when that skinny cow is spinning around your office doing god knows what –"

Oh dear, Melisandre. That was an entirely different can of worms. He still hadn't been able to convince her that the reason he'd hired the beautiful redhead was because of her tact, discretion, and her ability to calm most anyone – except him. Ruth was the only one who could calm his temper.

"Jealous of Mel?" Harry said. "Ruth, come now –"

"At least I get some satisfaction in knowing that she didn't know where you were, either," she spat.

"Oh for god's sake," he huffed. "Give me some credit – if I was going to cheat on you, it wouldn't be with the secretary. That's so clichéd it's painful." If he was going to cheat on her… yeah, he couldn't even finish that mental sentence. He was so deeply in love with his wife that there was no way he could turn to someone else. Her three years in exile had already proven that, and they'd grown closer since then. It just wasn't going to happen.

"She's pretty and perfect and not at all frumpy and fat like me," Ruth said snarkily. "And yes, I'm jealous of the bitch because she has your days now, and I don't." It was like a slap to the face for both of them, and he stopped himself from reminding her that she'd been the one to leave the Grid. "Damn it, Harry – twins. What are we going to do?"

"We're going to have two babies instead of one," he said firmly, "and we're going to love them and take care of them, just as if we were only having one. What do you think we're going to do?"

She exhaled and whispered, "Are you pleased with yourself?"

"Why?" Why would he be pleased with himself for putting her in more danger?

"Because you managed to knock me up twice in one go?" It was a quiet question, devoid of guile, but he didn't know how to answer. His male pride puffed up at it a bit, but his common sense smacked it back down.

He rolled his eyes. "In case you hadn't noticed, this is not the first time we've had this little issue of my sperm being incredibly talented," he muttered. Contraception be damned! He was just going to have to get snipped.

"Yeah, good thing you're not having an affair," she muttered in reply. "God knows how many little Harrys and Harriets would be running around." She got her blouse back on and sat there, frowning.

"Please let's not fight about this," he said gently. "We're meant to be happy right now –"

"I'm in bloody shock," Ruth whispered. "Two, Harry? We can barely manage Zoe. How are we going to manage with three?"

He kissed her temple and said, "We will manage. Stop worrying so much."

The doctor came back in with the scan images, and Ruth sighed as she looked at them.

He put his arm around her shoulders and murmured, "Let's go home. Bugger everything else for the day if it's not an emergency. We clearly need some time together and with Zoe."

The drive home was silent, aside from Ruth calling Agnes to let her know she wouldn't be back until morning and to make sure there was a kettle on when she came in at seven tomorrow. Harry was a little frustrated that she wasn't opening up to him, pouring her heart out… but he would live.

They were having twins.

At some point, that would sound real and sink in, wouldn't it?

END PART TWENTY-SEVEN


	28. Chapter 28

Twenty-eight:  
First Successive Rapid Fire Shock

The house smelled like Graham had been cooking a long while – something Italian if Ruth had to lay a finger on it. She hoped it had a cream sauce and plenty of garlic. The babies loved their garlic.

It gave her pause to think that in the span of an hour or so, she'd accepted that she was, indeed, having twins and 'baby' had been supplanted with 'babies' in her subconscious. She smiled a little and tossed down her purse. "Zoe, darling, where's mummy's sweetheart?"

Zoe came running stumblingly out of the kitchen. "Mum mum mum mum!" she squealed happily, running straight into Ruth's legs, giggling.

Harry laughed. "She's never that happy to see me," he teased.

"You're just daddy," Ruth replied, winking. She stooped down and lifted Zoe up into her arms, ignoring Harry's frustrated sigh. She knew he hated it when she picked Zoe up now, because it was against doctor's wishes, but that wasn't about to stop her from doing it. "Hello, my love," she murmured, giving her daughter a big kiss. "What did you do today?" The baby started babbling, sounding all the world like her mother, and Ruth gave her another kiss.

Graham came out of the kitchen and said, "We have company."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Is it Catherine? She was meant to be in Nazareth –"

"Uh, no," Graham said. "It's Beth. Beth Bailey. She's back from New Zealand just this afternoon and…"

"Oh!" Ruth exclaimed. "Have you been playing with Auntie Beth, Zoe?" The baby nodded and giggled, squirming to be passed to Harry – who took her and cuddled her with delight.

"I'm going to take her upstairs and change," Harry said. "I'll be down shortly."

Ruth nodded and followed Graham into the kitchen. Beth was sitting at the table, a mug of tea and a half eaten pile of biscuits in front of her. She looked tired and far more fragile than Ruth had remembered her being – and then it sank in that Beth was very pregnant. Of course she looked tired and fragile! Oh my goodness!

"How was New Zealand?" Ruth asked. Beth had been decommissioned from Five and had been offered a job with the private security service that handled diplomatic security for the UK's foreign embassies. She'd been in New Zealand for six months, handling security for the Ambassador to Japan's son, who was going to university there.

"I might have quit," Beth admitted. "And just packed my bags and come running home like a kid. I'm surprised they let me fly, since I'm about ready to pop. Apparently name-dropping the Duke and Duchess of Albany and invoking the wrath of the Security Services helped." She sounded contrite, sheepish, even. "I just thought… I mean… I thought I've been going it alone long enough and the baby's father might want to be a part of her life."

Ruth paused, settling into her chair. She nodded. "So, when are you going to tell Dimitri, then?"

"It's not Dimitri," Beth said, glancing over at Graham.

It suddenly all clicked – all of the phone calls to New Zealand that had popped up on the main line, the horrific bills she'd had to hide from Harry. "Oh my lord!" Ruth exclaimed. "Seriously? You two –"

"It's not a passing fancy," Graham said, "if that's what you're worried about."

"Your father is going to flip his bloody mind," Ruth hissed. "First the doctor's office and now this? Suddenly we're having twins and now we're going to be grandparents?"

"Wait, you're having twins?" Graham spluttered.

Ruth hung her head. "Well, it wasn't supposed to come out like that, but yes."

"Well, I mean," Beth began, then stopped. "Are you horribly cross for me showing up on your doorstep in such a sorry state, Ruth? I didn't know where else to go. Graham's here, and… and I've got nowhere else to go, really."

She looked so young and scared. Ruth understood better than Beth could ever possibly know. "Of course you're welcome here," Ruth said softly. "You should have told us already what was going on –"

"And upset Harry?" Beth pointed out.

"What's going to upset me?" Harry asked, coming into the kitchen with Zoe on his hip, dressed in fresh jeans and a dark button-down shirt. He looked expectantly from Beth to Graham to Ruth. "I already know Beth's pregnant with Graham's child. You think I don't have my own phone tapped? I'm old, not stupid."

"So you knew all this time and you didn't think to tell me?" Ruth asked.

He gave her a Look. "Just because I know doesn't mean anyone else needs to," he said.

"What the hell kind of logic is that?" Ruth shot back, irritated at him.

"Would you have worried?" he asked.

"Yes, of course I would have –"

"Then I rest my case," Harry said firmly. "Ignorance is bliss."

Ruth huffed and made a rude gesture in his direction. Beth smothered a snicker. "You are such a MAN," Ruth snarled. "God, Harry."

"I can't apologize when I'm not contrite," he replied, bopping Zoe's nose gently with his finger. She giggled and squirmed to be set down. Graham was plating up some plain pasta for Zoe, and some pieces of roasted vegetables, so Harry strapped her into her feeding chair. "Are you hungry, darling?" Harry looked up at his son and said, "I was waiting for you to come out and tell me what was going on, Graham."

"He's as stubborn as you are," Beth said idly. "It took me showing up on the doorstep out of the blue to get him to actually understand that, yes, I'm serious about coming home. And he's been hovering ever since."

"Can you blame him?" Harry asked. "You're bloody eight months pregnant. He should be hovering."

Graham sighed. "Yes, dad, we all know how you feel about letting women do their thing when they're knocked up," he said condescendingly. "Because you won't even let Ruth lift the dishes to wash them –"

"Ah, yes, well, now that we're having twins, she won't be doing a great many things," Harry said, looking rather smug. Ruth wanted to punch him in the face. Smug bastard. Of course, it didn't really matter because he was right – she was going to do everything in her power to keep their babies where they belonged till it was time for them to be born.

Beth said, "Until a few days ago, I was running eight miles every morning."

"What happened to make you stop?" Harry asked.

"Sophia decided to knock my kidneys about," Beth said with annoyance.

"Sophia is going to be a capital football player," Graham added cheerfully. "Once we get her out of her mum and up and walking a bit, anyway."

"You're calling her Sophia?" Ruth asked with a smile.

"Yes – Sophia," Beth said with a little smile in return. She didn't look quite so lost and frightened for a moment. "Sophia Ruth Townsend."

Ruth looked at her, stunned. "Really?" she said.

"I figure, why not name her a little after her Granny?" Beth said.

"Then it should be Sophia Jane," Ruth said softly. "I'm just the substitute Granny –"

"No, trust me, you're the real thing," Graham said. "My mother thinks I'm a terrible disappointment because of my addiction – but you just gave me a chance and talked dad into it, as well."

Ruth reached over and patted his arm. "You've not given me a reason to doubt you yet," she said softly. "And you and Beth are welcome to stay as long as you need to."

Beth frowned and said, "I want to go back to MI-5 but Erin Watts has made it practically impossible."

"You let me untangle that knot," Harry said. "I might be able to fix things."

Ruth said, "Harry, you can't fix everything." She looked up at Beth. "I can speak to Sir Richard and see what we can muster for you at the Palace."

"I can look for myself," Beth sighed. "It's okay – till I find something, I've got a little cash set aside."

"Is anyone else hungry?" Ruth asked as the smell of the food started to get to her. She'd been quite ravenous all day. It all made sense, though, now that she knew she was eating for three.

"Yes," Beth immediately said.

Zoe looked up and chomped on a noodle. "Mum," she said, grinning her crooked, toothy little smile.

"Is it good, darling?" Ruth asked, reaching over to stroke Zoe's curly hair.

Graham set a plate of pasta with garlic cream sauce and roasted vegetables down in front of both women. "Okay, then, eat up," he said. "Dad, there's a bit of steak for you if you want it, but the pasta is good on its own."

"It is," Beth agreed, plowing straight into her food. Harry and Graham shared a similar expression as Ruth began to tuck in as well.

"I'm sorry if I'm a bit tetchy," Ruth said between bites. "Today's just been… trying."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Yes. Hormones," he agreed, giving his son a look of suffering and dismay. "She's been all kinds of out of sorts."

Ruth scowled and debated throwing a mushroom at his head. Deciding against it because it was a bad example to Zoe, who was currently poking a mushroom with her fingernail, she abstained from initiating a food fight. "Not everything is about hormones," she muttered in what she hoped was a scathing tone.

"Right!" Beth exclaimed. "Why does everything get blamed on my bloody hormones? Why can't I just be cranky? Just because I've got a little person in me doesn't mean that my entire life is dictated by hormones."

"And you have to admit that finding out you're expecting twins is a major shock," Ruth said. "I thought seriously about castrating Harry in the doctor's office, but that might have been a rather extreme reaction. That might have been hormones."

Harry, for his part, looked uncomfortable. "Ah, yes, that would be hormones, dear," he said in a placating manner.

Ruth rolled her eyes. "Don't patronize me," she said. "This is your fault."

He smothered another smile and she rolled her eyes. "Harry, don't."

"I seem to remember someone was very… very… complicit in the activities of that night," Harry teased.

"Speaking of complicity," Ruth said, looking over at Beth and Graham, where they sat across the table, holding hands as they ate. "How did the two of you –"

"Oh," Beth sighed. "Yes, well, it was all kind of…"

"She came by to help with Zoe," Graham said. "And we got talking and went out for dinner and a coffee a few times…"

"Your hot date?" Harry questioned.

Graham flushed a little. "Yes, dad. I was going to ask her to marry me, but she's too good for me."

Beth snorted. "I wouldn't be if you'd ask," she said sullenly. "But you're just Harry, apparently – very bad at communicating when things are what you actually want."

Ruth tried very hard not to laugh. She actually had to get up and leave the room to stop the urge – which was perfectly fine because she had to use the loo anyway.

"And now you've really upset Ruth," she heard Harry scolding.

Ruth called over her shoulder, "No, just your children forcing the issue of the loo again. I'll be right back – carry on."

When she came back, awkward silence reigned. "So, today's been full of excitement," she commented wryly. "Maybe tomorrow will be calm."

Harry was about to say something when his phone went mad. "Redflash," he said with some annoyance. "Melisandre is overly cautious."

Ruth held back her irritation and merely said, "Go save the world, Harry – we can handle things here."

He got up and hurried off, and the door slammed only moments later. Ruth looked around the table and said, "Now that he's gone… have you told your Mum what's going on, Graham?"

"She won't bloody speak to me," he grumbled.

"So get Catherine to set it up – have her come here," Ruth suggested gently. "She deserves to know she's going to be a grandmother."

"You don't understand," Graham said. "She's done with me. She won't care at all – she wrote me off like dad did, but –"

Ruth sighed and said, "I wrote my mum off a long time ago. Why do you think she comes to see Zoe when I'm not here?"

Graham frowned and looked at Beth. "I suppose, for Sophia's sake…"

Beth nodded and finished her dinner. "Sophia needs all the elders she can get – she's not getting them from my side," she commented softly.

"Beth," Graham said, "I know I'm a bit of a prat… and my timing is bollocks…"

"Yes, stupid, I'll marry you," Beth said. "You don't even have to humiliate yourself."

Ruth smiled and got a few wet wipes from the jug to clean Zoe up with.

* * *

Harry stumbled into bed about three in the morning, eyes bleary and head weary. Ruth woke up and immediately wrapped her arms around him. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," he whispered, giving her a kiss.

"I went to the loo a few minutes ago and heard you come in," she murmured.

"I'm sorry about being snappish earlier," he said.

"No, you weren't – I was," she sighed, tucking her head into the back of his shoulder. "Today has been a trying day. Finding out about the babies – all of the babies – and before that, finding out that there are a great many things I can't talk to you about…"

"A great many?" he echoed, feeling exhaustion seeping into his bones.

She nodded and sighed. "My security clearance is higher than yours," Ruth murmured. "I see things coming across my desk that no one person should see. It's frightening how someone could just…" She sighed. "I need a permanent protection detail. Get Beth back and give her the ungrateful job."

"Ruth –"

"Harry, believe me, I'd love to be ignorant, just walking about on the streets and pretending that I don't know what's simmering about underneath. But I do. And I need you to help. Especially now." She didn't elaborate, just held him tighter.

He knew that she'd already been briefed by email about Section D's current operation, so, wisely, he held his tongue except to say, "I'll see what I can do. Did you receive a threat?"

She nodded against his back. He winced. "I'll put Jules on this in the morning," he promised.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Today has been a trying day," he said, echoing her sentiment.

"Yes," she agreed. "And, by the way, Jane is coming over for dinner on Saturday."

"Jane?"

"Your ex-wife."

He groaned. "And now my day is complete."

END PART TWENTY-EIGHT


	29. Chapter 29

Twenty-nine:  
First Familial Fireworks

"Is this too dowdy? I don't want your ex thinking I'm some kind of a schoolmarm."

Harry glanced up from his shoe – which he was buffing like a man possessed. Why it seemed important that his shoes were shined properly when he was seeing Jane, he couldn't remember, but there had been a row devoted to it once, so he was being pre-emptive. He took in Ruth's simple brown wrap dress and smiled. "You couldn't be dowdy if you tried," he said. "Come here."

She slipped her feet into her shoes and came over to where he was sitting on the end of the bed. "I just want to make a good impression – it's not every day you get to have dinner with the other parent," she said quietly. "And you know she'll be judging me."

"She will be judging you," he acknowledged, setting aside his shoe and pulling her down onto the bed with him. "She will be judging both of us. I wasn't a good husband or father with her."

"You are with me," Ruth said, her voice soft, contemplative.

"Yes, but I've got the experience of age, time, and I love you more than the sun, the moon, and all the stars in the sky," Harry said. "I'd never be able to live with myself if I didn't make you happy. Three years' exile wasn't supposed to be in the cards." He squeezed her hand. "Jane and I used to get on. We used to be happy. Back in the day, before we got married. I thought I loved her enough, but…" He shrugged. "It never was like this. Not like it is with you. Jane can judge us all she wants – but we're happy together." He reached over and rubbed her belly fondly.

She was quiet, listening to his words and he hoped she heard the truth in them. He and Jane had gotten married young, thinking that hell's bells good sex and love might have been running hand in hand, but it had turned out to just be a fleeting chemistry that they'd tried to build a lifetime around. The kids were a last-ditch effort to glue things together, but it had all gone sticky and pulled apart. He wasn't home enough, he didn't care about her, sex was something that didn't even come into the equation – the kids needed him, but he wasn't there… All the old arguments.

Ruth seemed to notice the shift in his thoughts and she murmured, "We are happy together."

"Even when we're having a row, we're still happy," he added.

"Well… don't sugar coat it," she said. "But yes, we're happy in our way."

"Our way is a good way," he said gently. "We compromise."

She laughed. "Yes, and when you were the bloody boss, it was problematic if we did not compromise."

He paused, then said, "Yes, well… Now I'm not your boss, and we still compromise."

She leaned over and gave him a kiss. "Now, I need to finish getting ready and go help your son with the rest of dinner," Ruth said softly. "That leaves either you or Beth to answer the door."

He inwardly flinched, knowing that he'd be on the receiving end of Jane's scathing assessment first. "You did that apurpose, didn't you?"

She smirked. "It would be very untoward for the lady of the house to open the door for the former lady of the house. I'm picking up some protocol from my bosses, finally."

"Don't you protocol me," he scolded, smiling and giving her another kiss. "Go help with supper and I'll make sure Jane gets in safely."

Which is how he came to be sat on the couch with Beth thirty minutes later, listening to her chatter about how bloody nervous she was about meeting the Dragon Lady. Harry just wanted to roll his eyes, but he listened patiently as he played with Zoe and her blocks.

"What if she doesn't like me?" Beth asked anxiously. "I'm the mother of her grandchild and I –"

"My mum didn't approve of Jane," Harry said, finally saying something that he'd kept closely guarded for a long time. "She was too much flash, not enough substance, and I think she knew we'd play out spectacularly awfully." He looked up at Beth and smiled. "I'd like to think she would have approved of Ruth, though."

"Right, but –"

"Don't worry about what Jane thinks," Harry warned. "You'll spend the rest of your life doing it. This is the voice of reason and experience talking. You and Graham are together and having a baby. Jane needs to understand that love doesn't always play by the rules. You are a good person, Beth, and if she can't see that, sod her." He paused, then looked back to Zoe with her triumphant, crooked smile and dimples. "Besides, we rather like having you around."

Beth calmed down a little bit, then.

Until the doorbell rang. Then she scurried off to the kitchen and Harry rolled his eyes. "Come on, Zoe, let's go see who's at the door," Harry invited.

"Up up doow!" Zoe cried excitedly, raising her little arms so Harry could pick her up.

He scooped her up and headed for the front door. "Who can that be at the door, Zoe?" The baby squealed and kicked her little legs. Good thing he had her firmly on his hip or he might have dropped her when feet made impact. He got the locks, then opened the door. The baby fell silent with confusion, not knowing who this person was. She hid her face in Harry's body shyly – just like Ruth, she was. "Hello, Jane," Harry greeted warily.

She hadn't changed much – her hair was still flaming auburn, her face was still thin and well-chiseled (though wrinkles and lines had definitely aged her), freckles were still dotted all over her… He remembered more than one session of attempting to count all of her freckles, and he smiled in spite of himself. "Won't you come in?" he said, holding the door open wide for her.

Jane, for her part, didn't hardly react to the sight of Zoe in his arms. "Graham told me you've remarried," she explained briefly. "And that you're happy. I'm glad." Her words seemed hesitant, unsure. The whole situation was tenuous, strung tightly together like a web. But webs were strong, so he wasn't worried.

"We are," Harry said simply. "Now, Graham and Ruth are finishing up the cooking, so we can go to the kitchen, or we can go to the front room and Zoe can play a bit more while they work." Zoe untucked her face from his side and looked up at him with wide eyes. "Do you want to play, sweetheart?" he asked her. "Let's go play."

"How old is she?" Jane asked as they made their way into the sitting room.

"Little miss Zoe is one," Harry said with a smile. Zoe smiled back at him with that cheesy grin of hers and he gave her a kiss. "Aren't you, darling?" She giggled as he set her back down on the floor and she made a beeline for her blocks.

"What made you decide to have another baby after all of this time?" Jane asked. "I mean, you never were –"

Harry sighed and said, "Jane, you and I were a bad pair: let's not sugar coat it and not call it shit. We had the kids in a desperate attempt to stay together, and it backfired spectacularly. Ruth and I aren't that way: we're genuinely happy and Zoe is an extension of that bliss."

"How long have you been married? Can't have been that long –"

"Nine years," Harry replied. "Ten in January."

She just stared at him for a long moment. She looked away and he knew she was stunned. Their ten year anniversary had been when the divorce had come through. For him and Ruth to make it ten years, that was something very special – and she knew it as well as he did.

Speaking of Ruth, she came silently into the room, and surprised everyone by saying, "Dinner's almost ready."

Harry watched Jane eyeball Ruth, and frowned a little when her gaze fell on Ruth's baby bump. To her credit, she didn't say anything. "Ruth, this is Jane," Harry introduced. "Jane, this is Ruth." Ruth was eyeing Jane up as well, and he could see the worry lines forming between her eyes. Jane was exotic, new, beautiful… but Ruth was his world. She was precious, steady, calm, and far more beautiful than Jane could ever have been. Ruth's beauty lay in the sweetness of her soul, the kindness in her eyes, the dimples that only appeared when she smiled. And she was perfect.

"Pleasure to meet you," Ruth said, extending her hand to the older woman. "I hope Harry hasn't been making trouble."

"No, he's been very accommodating," Jane said. "Aside from not offering me a drink, anyway –"

"Why don't you come to the dining room and we'll open a bottle of wine?" Ruth suggested. "White or red?"

"Should you be drinking?" Jane asked.

"Oh, no, you and Harry will be having the good wine," Ruth said with a small smile. "Don't worry about me or Graham." Or Beth, Harry added silently. But he didn't know how much Graham had told his mother, so he held his tongue.

"White would be lovely," Jane said.

"Good," Ruth replied. "I've got a bottle of sauvignon blanc from Australia going spare," she added with a smile. "It's been chilling for a while, so let's get you that drink."

Harry watched them walk away and hoped that everything would be all right. Zoe toddled over and held up her favorite stuffed toy, smiling widely. "Oh, yes, is Mr. Bear happy?" he asked her. She proceeded to throw the teddy in his face. Yes, having a toddler was a barrel of laughs. Having three would be like diffusing a nuclear bomb.

"Do you want to go get some supper, Zoe?" he asked. She took off, running, giggling, being a happy baby. She went straight for the door, and he followed at a more leisurely pace.

He wasn't at all surprised that she made a beeline for Graham, shrieking, "Gee Gee Gee!"

Graham picked her up and tossed her up in the air, catching her with ease. "Hi, little bit," he said with a smile.

Harry came through the dining room door to see Jane, Ruth, and Beth all sat round the table already, each with a glass of wine – alcoholic or not. "So, what's for dinner?" he asked, taking his seat next to Ruth.

"We've got a rack of lamb, roasted potatoes with rosemary, and asparagus," Graham replied cheerfully as he got Zoe set in her chair. "And potatoes and carrots for Zoe, since she doesn't like lamb."

"Num," the baby announced cheerfully. Ruth smiled and stroked Zoe's hair like she always did at mealtime. Zoe beamed at her with that silly smile of hers and Harry's heart practically melted, watching them.

"She looks a lot like Catherine did at that age," Jane commented.

"She does," Harry agreed. "I'm hoping the twins have a bit more Evershed than Pearce in them."

Ruth laughed. "Right," she scoffed. "Anyway –"

Graham brought the plates in and passed them around the table. He took his seat between Beth and Jane, and said, "So, we've applied for a marriage license and we've booked the registry office for the 26th – barring the baby coming early, anyway."

Beth nodded and smiled. "Yes," she agreed.

"We'll clear our schedules," Ruth said, pointedly looking at Harry. "Right?"

Jane laughed, a curt sound that almost sounded bitter. "Can you plan national security around your son's wedding, then?"

"No," Harry sighed, "but I can ask that my PA keep the time cleared in case I am able to make it."

Ruth nodded. "Same here," she agreed. "Of course, Sir Richard and Her Majesty also know the situation and I won't book no as an answer." She smiled sweetly at Jane.

Harry knew exactly what she was up to, and said, "Ruth works at Buckingham Palace in the Queen's Assistant Corps. She's the Political Assistant in charge of liaising with the Security Services for Her Majesty." He wanted to puff his chest out with pride for his wife, but that might have been slightly excessive.

"Oh really?" Jane said suspiciously. "How did you two meet, then?"

Ruth held back a hint of a smile. "Work, of course," she said mildly. "Which is how Graham and Beth met, by the by. Beth is Zoe's godmother."

"Ah, yes, I came over and Graham and I just… hit it off," Beth said with a small smile.

Graham blushed a little and said, "Yes. Beth is fantastic, mum."

Jane nodded and said, "Yes, Catherine told me about her a bit. I'm pleased that you've managed to straighten your life out, Graham."

He said, "You wouldn't let me call and tell you I'd done well in doing that –"

"I didn't want another disappointment," Jane said, glaring at him.

"Well, I've not given you anything more to be disappointed in, have I?" he grunted.

"Do you have a job? Any way to support your child and your fiancée?" she countered.

"YES," Graham said firmly, brutally stabbing his lamb. "I'm Zoe's nanny. Ruth pays me more than a fair wage, and we've got lodging and all the things we need right now. And don't give me that look like you want to disparage my job or my lack of aspiration. I'm where I'm needed, doing what I love doing. If you don't like that, I'm afraid I'm sorry and I don't care."

Beth cleared her throat. "You might well grill me about my lack of a job and lack of prospects, then, because I quit at Rayfield Security to come home. I'm without everything at the moment, and Harry and Ruth are being very kind in letting us stay. Sophia should be very glad to have such loving grandparents as them."

Harry knew that the proverbial shit was about to hit the fan, so he stepped in. "What Graham and Beth are doing with their lives right now pales in comparison to the fact that they are very much in love and are about to become parents," he said, trying to calm everyone down. "That's the most important bit, isn't it?"

Jane held her tongue and flushed almost as red as her hair, then calmed down and went back to being pale and merely pretty with a barbed tongue. "Yes, I suppose so," she muttered. "So it's a girl, then?"

Graham nodded. "Yes. She's to be called Sophia after Beth's mum."

"Oh, that's nice – will she like it?"

Beth poked a potato with her fork. "I shouldn't think she'd care – she died when I was seven."

"I'm sorry," Jane said automatically.

Beth shrugged and said, "My mum died when I was seven, my dad when I was fifteen, and that's when I ran away to Colombia with my auntie and got into drug smuggling. Obviously, I don't do that anymore – I worked with Harry and Ruth at Five for a time. Doing good."

"Is everyone in this family a bloody spy?" Jane asked irritably.

"No," Graham muttered.

The rest of dinner – and dessert – was rather tense, but Harry kept sticking his neck out to stop the petty bickering that might have begun. He'd managed to keep things smooth and even enough that Jane and Graham had shared a good night hug on the front doorstep. And she seemed to accept that Beth was now a permanent part of her son's life.

As she had accepted that Ruth and Harry were very suited to each other and that their start of a new family, a new normal, was not intended as an affront to her sensibilities or at all a reflection on her marriage with Harry previously. He was glad that she wasn't kicking up a fuss about it. He would have had to take her down a few pegs.

He put Zoe to bed after her bath and headed to the master bedroom, watching Ruth get changed into her low-slung lounge pants and one of his old Army t-shirts. He smiled at her belly beginning to poke out, but that made her eyes flash with irritation. "Why didn't you tell me I looked fat in that dress?" she asked.

"Never fat," he said gently.

Ruth sighed and gestured at herself. "I look like a bloody politician now," she groaned. "All belly and no brains."

Harry tried to stop smiling, but he couldn't. As usual, her state of astute observation was backfiring. "Ruth, believe me, you look nothing like a politician. You look everything like the sexy, beautiful mother you are," he said gently, softly. "Very alluring. Quite beautiful. Incredibly sexy."

"You're just trying to butter me up," she accused. "To get me into bed. Which is how I got into this state in the first place!"

His ill-hidden smile turned into a laugh, and he said, "Of course I want to get you into bed."

She threw her hands up in the air and sighed in exasperation. "Harry!"

"If you hadn't noticed, your husband is quite in love with you," he said, unbuttoning his shirt slowly, deliberately, knowing that it drove her mad with lustful longings. Tonight was no exception to the rule, and by the time his shirt hung open, her eyes were glazed and glassy with lust. "So going to bed is no hardship, then?" he teased.

Her mouth opened, then closed, then opened again – and her tongue darted out to lick her lips. He took that as an invitation and came closer, meeting her somewhere in the middle for a deep, soul-searching kiss that had her leaning heavily against him and had his heart singing.

Jane could say what she liked – he was happy here, like this.

END PART TWENTY-NINE


	30. Chapter 30

Author's note: Good lord, I must've started and restarted this chapter five times. I hope that the final outcome is worth it, and bits of the other drafts might make it into future chapters.

* * *

Thirty:  
First Grandchild

Ruth looked at her watch, then around the JIC table – suspicious of Harry's absence. They'd been waiting, waiting, and finally, someone came in and whispered something into the ear of Michael Shafford. He gave her a suffering look, then announced, "Sir Harry won't be joining us today… Section D is under lockdown."

She felt her heart sink, wondering if it was a drill, or if it had more sinister undertones. She did her best to keep her face calm, cool, collected, and settled in for another mind-numbing meeting.

Around about ten thirty, she got a text – the vibration of her phone shaking her purse. She ignored it: if it was an emergency, they would call. She didn't much go for texting, but while she was in meetings, it was slightly less intrusive than a full-fledged phone call. Another text. Then another.

She bent down and retrieved her phone from the outermost pocket of her purse, and looked at the texts. One from Beth, simply stating, "SOS." All the rest were from Graham. She was about to put the phone away when it rang. All eyes in the room were suddenly on her as she answered, "Yes, I'm in a meeting…"

"Ruth… mum…" Graham stammered. "It's time and I can't get hold of dad – we're on our way to the hospital. St. Mark's."

Ruth carefully kept her face neutral. "How soon do you need me?"

"The contractions are about ten minutes apart."

"Okay, I'll leave as soon as I finish here," Ruth said. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention." She hung up and looked around the room. "I'm sorry; situation at the Palace. Please do continue with this very enlightening briefing." Her voice was dripping with sarcasm.

They continued, and she felt herself drifting off, splitting herself into three – one who was worried about Beth, one who was worried about Harry, and the one who was meant to be paying attention in the JIC meeting. Somehow, she managed to keep three separate trains of thought going parallel at the same time, and as soon as Shafford adjourned the meeting, she was on the phone, cancelling the rest of her day.

She was in the corridor when she called Harry. "You bloody stupid sod," she hissed. "Beth's gone into labor and I'm going round to St. Mark's. If you get this, come. If you don't, then I'll know you're still under lockdown."

She was down to two voices in her head – the one that was going to stop worrying about Beth as soon as she got to the hospital, and the one that would never – EVER – stop worrying about Harry. For, despite her best efforts, she was always worried that something would happen to him.

She drove through traffic, bobbing and weaving past taxis and busses, wondering when she'd decided that the bus and the tube were no longer relevant to her interests of transportation. Harry had spoiled her rotten, then, and she would hesitate for a moment before agreeing that it was totally true. She'd become a posh bitch.

She parked the car and headed into the hospital, bypassing several wards and floors before she reached the delivery suite. She paused at the nurse's station. "Yes, hello," she said, holding up her ID. "I'm Ruth Pearce, Duchess of Albany, and I'm here for Elizabeth Pearce – can you tell me which room she's in?"

The nurse on duty smiled kindly and said, "Daughter?"

"It's complicated," Ruth replied. "I'm on her emergency list."

"She's in 405," the nurse replied. "Down this corridor, fifth door on the right."

Ruth hurried down the corridor and turned into the room, seeing Beth squeezing the life out of Graham's hand. "Where's Zoe?" she demanded.

"I called Malcolm," Graham whimpered. "He's taking care of her –"

"The Grid is under lockdown, so I don't know if or when Harry will be here," Ruth said, throwing aside her briefcase and purse and settling in on Beth's other side. "Hey, now, how are you doing?"

"I'm never doing this again," Beth babbled. "I thought being shot was bad – no, no, this is like… why do women willingly do this? How can you want to do it again?"

Ruth brushed Beth's hair back out of her face. "Because we love the men we do," she said softly. "Because it means more to have children with them than it does to be in fleeting pain."

"This is not fleeting pain!" Beth protested. "I feel like my insides are going to implode. GOD –" She looked at Graham and said, "NEVER AGAIN."

He at least had the brains to look sheepish.

Five long hours later, Ruth was holding her newborn granddaughter and smiling. "Why, hello, Sophia," she murmured. "I've been waiting to meet you. But so have your mummy and daddy, so maybe you should go see them now."

Beth and Graham were together, hands clasped after the final part of the delivery, both looking exhausted and happy. Ruth crooked her elbow up so they could see the baby's face peeking out of the pink blanket. "You want to hold her, Beth?"

"Of course I want to hold her," Beth sniffled, wiping away her tears. "After all that work, it doesn't seem fair that I wasn't the first to hold her –"

Ruth passed Sophia over and smiled. "She's perfect – ten fingers, ten toes, and she's got those Pearce cheeks."

Beth took her daughter and held her close. "Hello, Sophia," she whispered. "Mummy's here now… mummy's here. And so is daddy. We'll always be here for you, sweetie." She gently traced the curves of the baby's face with her fingertips and smiled.

Ruth looked over at Graham and said, "I've got to step out and get some food or I'm going to go funny. I'm going to try calling your dad again."

She didn't wait for his reply – he was too busy watching his wife and child like he was meant to be doing. She was glad of that at least; glad that he was so devoted to them. It wouldn't do to have just married Beth for appearances, to be a father to Sophia. She was glad that they were so deeply in love.

She headed to the canteen, stopping partway there to try to call Harry again. "Hello, it's me," she murmured. "Your granddaughter is so beautiful – Sophia Ruth Pearce, born just about an hour ago. She's perfect, Harry." She paused, then said, "So, anyway, I take it the lockdown isn't over. Please call me as soon as it is. I'm never going to stop being fretful where you're concerned, Harry. Right now, my stomach is turning flips because I don't know what's going on. I love you, you hear me?" She hung up and continued to the canteen, where she got a cup of tea, a sandwich, and a salad.

Ruth sat alone at a table, caught somewhere between happy and miserable. Happy because of the baby and miserable because Harry was gone dark.

She had almost finished her food when her phone rang. She picked it up without thinking and said, "Harry!"

"Erin," she was corrected quickly. "Ruth, we were under lockdown but there's been an accident. Some bloody moron didn't get all the guns switched to dummy ammunition."

Ruth's heart leapt straight out of her chest. "Harry?" she whispered.

"He's going to be okay," Erin assured her. "It was just a shoulder wound – near about the same place as the other –"

Ruth flinched, remembering a day when Tom Quinn had gone blinking mad and had shot Harry with a double barrel shotgun trying to make his escape. Ever since, Harry had had off-again, on-again issues with the nerves in his shoulder, and there were times when he couldn't even close his hand to hold hers. That was why she always was on his left side in public, always taking his left hand, always protecting him in the small ways she could. "But he's going to be all right?" she whispered.

"Yes – we're almost to St. Bart's –"

"Okay," Ruth said very quietly. "Tell him I'm coming as soon as I can. Has no one checked his mobile?"

"Harry left his mobile at home today," Erin said. "He was quite cross he couldn't ring you before the exercise began."

Ruth shook her head, smothering a curse. "Well, tell him that I'll be there as soon as they get him out of surgery," she promised. "I'm on my way. Tell him I'm on my way – and that I love him. So much."

"He knows," Erin assured her. "You're on speaker. He's squeezing my hand."

"Harry, you're always getting us into such horrible situations," Ruth scolded softly. "But I wouldn't love you anymore if you didn't," she added. "I'll be there soon."

"No rush," he croaked. "I have no intention of dying today."

"I'll be there as soon as," she promised. "Don't fight the doctors – let them help, Harry. And stay on the pain medicine this time," Ruth ordered, gathering up her things and throwing away her trash.

"I love you," he said, his voice weak and rough.

"I love you more," she countered. She hung up and headed back to Beth's room at a very brisk pace.

Graham looked up from his girls when she walked in and made for her briefcase. "Ruth, what's –"

"I've got to go," she said softly, pulling out her phone. She took several photos of Sophia and Beth, then said, "For your dad, when he wakes up. He's about to go into surgery. I'll tell you more later – just know that he's going to be okay."

Everything was a blur from one hospital to the other. She knew that there was something playing in the car, something mournful and instrumental, but she couldn't focus enough to change the track on the CD. It had to be one of Harry's discs. She didn't know how she was able to drive when her vision was so blurry with tears. The babies kicked and rolled around and she needed the loo, but she had to wait till she got to St. Bart's.

Once inside A&E, she gave her name and was immediately whisked off to the waiting room where the team was. There were several people she didn't know personally there, new members of the team, if she had to guess. Erin immediately came over and gave her a hug. "Are you all right?" Erin asked anxiously. "The babies?"

"Fine," Ruth said quietly. "I need to use the loo – has there been any word from the theatre?"

Erin shook her head. "No. But he's going to be all right. It's to be an uncomplicated surgery – remove the bullet, stitch things back up."

Ruth nodded and sighed. "Okay, the loo – and then you better introduce me to the new hires or they're going to think I'm just some daft hysterical pregnant woman," she murmured.

"Well, you are a daft, hysterical pregnant woman," Erin said. "I'll walk with you."

When Ruth was done in the ladies', Erin was there, acting for all the world like a bodyguard. "Harry threatened me with death and dismemberment and many other things if I didn't watch out for you while he isn't able to," Erin explained. "Have you eaten anything?"

"A little," Ruth sighed.

"Well, I'll get Callum to pop round and get you something," Erin said gently. "Where were you when I called? You sounded anxious –"

Ruth shook her head. "No, don't worry about me," she said. "We should be worrying about Harry. He's already got problems with his left arm and hand – this will only make it worse. He might have to retire if things get much worse."

Erin was silent, listening to her. "I'm sorry, Ruth, I didn't want to have to call and be the bearer of bad news."

"Who shot him?" Ruth asked.

"Dimitri pointed a gun at the wall and shot, thinking it was dummy," Erin sighed. "It ricocheted off the wall and caught Harry. Very lucky it was only his shoulder," she said pointedly. "And Dee feels a right twat about it, so don't even blame him. It wasn't his fault. Any of us could've taken that shot with a similar outcome."

Ruth said, "Well, he should at least be punished a little."

Erin cocked her head and smirked. "What, you mean like make him the head of your security?" she teased. "Because that was my intention anyway. Doesn't mean we can't have some fun with him in the meanwhile."

Ruth sighed. "I don't want a security detail."

"You made the mistake of telling Harry that you'd gotten death threats," Erin said. "At least if Dee is head of your security, you'll have someone you trust at the helm."

"Someone I trust? He bloody well shot my husband!"

"On accident, and he feels very badly about it," Erin reminded her.

Ruth sighed and nodded. "All right. All right," she agreed. "But we can have some fun with him, right? Run him through his paces first?"

"Of course," Erin replied as they came back into the waiting room. "Helen, Greg, and Moira, this is Ruth Pearce – Harry's wife. You've heard tell of her on the Grid as simply 'Ruth' or 'Ruth Evershed'. The woman is bloody brilliant and now that she's gone from Five, we all miss her dearly. Don't we, Callum? Dee?"

Dimitri, though he looked very, very guilty, nodded and said, "Yeah, we all miss Evershed."

Callum snorted a little. "What's she got that I don't have?"

Ruth raised an eyebrow. "For a start?" she asked in an annoyed tone. "A brain."

Melisandre bit back a slightly hysterical laugh. "She does have you there, Cal."

"Oi, enough out of you, you brazen hussy," Callum grunted.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ruth," Greg said, stepping forward and extending his hand. "I wish it were under better circumstances."

"Like a Royal Inspection of the Grid?" Ruth replied with a smirk. "Because that's coming soon."

"Oh. Oh god."

"Yeah, you'll have to hide your busty lady magazines," one of the girls, a young thing with a thick braid of brown hair and smiling brown eyes said. "I'm Moira, your replacement. Harry pulled me from GCHQ."

"Good choice," Ruth said automatically. "Is old man Rogers still raising hell?"

"God, yes – he loves terrifying this one lady in particular… poor thing." The women shared a quick laugh, then Ruth appraised the last person – a tall, thin blonde with a look of the runway about her… much like Ros Myers had, back in the day.

"You don't look like a Duchess," Helen said haughtily. "I should know – I'm a Countess."

Ruth rolled her eyes. Of course, there was always one… "Ah, yes, well, I'm rather afraid that I don't care so much what I look like," she replied.

Helen was about to rejoin, but was cut off when a doctor came in and Ruth gave her the cold shoulder immediately. "Lady Pearce?" the doctor called out.

She might have corrected him, but she was too worried about Harry. "Yes," she said, stepping forward and into the corridor with the doctor. "How is he?"

"His surgery was relatively minor and he'll be fine," the doctor said. "The old familiar discomfort from nerve pain and muscle tightness will follow him for the rest of his life, unfortunately. It might be time for Sir Harry to think about retirement."

Ruth sighed and said, "You better be the one to propose that, because if I do, all hell will break loose."

"It's an option that he should consider."

She nodded and sighed. "We'd talked about retiring in about four years… but Harry might need to go first."

"He'll be coming out from under the anesthetic soon," the doctor said. "As soon as he's conscious, I'll bring you back to his room. But only you – not any of that motley crew out there."

She smothered a smile and said, "Have you patched them up before, too?"

"Unfortunately."

She laughed a little. "Yes, I'm afraid I understand your reluctance to let them in with him. I share it," she said in a mild tone. "Thank you for taking such good care of him." She smiled at the doctor and went back into the waiting room. "He'll be fine," she announced cheerfully. "But no visitors today – just me."

"Well, that's bloody unfair," Callum said. "Especially when Dimitri has such a lovely apology crafted –"

"Why should Dimitri apologize when it's my fault all the ammunition wasn't dummy?" Melisandre asked. "I was in charge of that part of the preparation and I cocked it up, didn't I?" She burst into tears, and Ruth actually felt sorry for her. Harry, of course, would forgive any of the sins of his team, but right now, for two of them to be hurting so deeply over this…

Ruth went over and surprised everyone – including herself – by drawing Melisandre into her arms and hugging her tightly. "It could have been so much worse," she said softly. "We should just be glad that he'll be all right."

"This feels like when my uncle Jamie died," Melisandre sobbed. "He fell off his horse and broke his neck and no one wanted to tell us that he'd died on impact and it was just awful – and Harry reminds me so much of him…" She sniffled and said, "I know you don't like me, Ruth, and you think I want to steal Harry away from you, but I don't and I'm sorry if I ever made you think it – I love working in Section D and with Sir Harry –"

"Shh, shh," Ruth murmured, stroking her hair. "It's all right. Accidents sometimes happen, despite everything we can possibly do to stop them. It's not your fault."

"But it is –"

"Would you like to resign? Get yourself in trouble so you have to quit? No? Then stop it," Ruth said firmly.

Melisandre finally stopped crying, and Erin said, "So… I think maybe I should go home and make sure Rosie's okay." Everyone else piped up, except Dimitri, echoing similar sentiments and retreating from the waiting room.

Ruth looked over at Dimitri and sighed. "It wasn't your fault," she said softly. "What happened."

"It feels like it's my fault," Dimitri muttered. "He's lying in a hospital bed because I shot off a gun."

"Accidents happen," Ruth repeated. The awful, haunted look in his eyes reminded her of Harry's demons that reared their ugly heads at night. "Harry is going to be all right," she assured him. "And you can spend all your time groveling to him, because I won't hear it."

Dimitri sighed and rubbed his head, frowning. "Is there anything I can do?" he asked.

"Yeah," Ruth said. "When Erin asks you to head up my security, don't tell her no."

"I wouldn't tell her no," Dimitri said with a small smile. "You know, if Harry hadn't had his claws into you, I would've asked you out."

Ruth laughed. "A handsome young man like you? What would you want with me?"

Dimitri waggled his eyebrows at her. "I hear tell that you're famously good in the sack."

She blushed and said, "Does Harry really talk about –"

"No, but sometimes, the look on his face says it all," he replied. "He gets this dazed look when he comes in sometimes in the morning, and it's either not enough coffee or he's been very well…"

She clapped a hand over his mouth. "You aren't to speak of this to anyone," Ruth hissed.

He chuckled. "All right, all right, Ruth – I was only teasing."

She rolled her eyes and sighed. "Hormones," she muttered.

"So you want me to be your head of security?" Dimitri asked.

"I trust you," Ruth said simply. "Harry trusts you."

Dimitri nodded and said, "Okay. Is it really that simple?"

Ruth smiled and said, "You know me well enough to know how to plan effectively and discreetly for the cover I'll need. Correct?"

"Yes," he replied.

"Then, yes, it's that simple." She sat down on one of the hospital chairs – bloody uncomfortable things – and patted the one next to her. "By the way, Beth's had the baby today. Would you like to see a picture? Only don't tell Harry I showed you before him – he'll be furious with me."

He settled in beside her and looked at one of the photos of Sophia on her phone. "She's lovely," he said. "But I still maintain that you're too young to be a grandmother, Evershed."

"So do I, but I wouldn't change it – or her – for the world," Ruth said with a smile.

After a while, a nurse came to take Ruth – and only Ruth – back to Harry's room. "I'm sorry, but this man is the head of my security," Ruth said firmly, "and he will be accompanying me." Once they were in the hallway, she added, "There. You can make your apology and atone for your sins."

Dimitri said, "Just for that, I might let it slip that I've already seen photos of Sophia."

Harry was groggy and ever so very gumpy when they got into his room. He was tugging ineffectually at the tubing that was running into his right hand and muttering under his breath about bloody useless things his fingers and not being able to move his left arm at all. Ruth immediately freed the tangled kink of his tubing and leaned in to give him a kiss. "Harry, behave," she murmured softly.

"I feel like balls," he grumbled.

"That's the morphine, my love," she reminded him gently. "Just let it do what it's meant to do. Lie back and relax – that's an order."

His eyes were glassy from the medication, but he looked up at her and grinned. "Are you trying to play dominatrix now? That's sexy, Ruth. I can just imagine you in thigh-high heeled boots and a little –" Dimitri coughed and Harry shut up immediately. "What's that bloody fool doing here?" he grunted.

"Being my bodyguard," Ruth replied cheerfully. "And he wants to apologize."

"For what? Shooting off what was meant to be dummy ammunition? Apology not accepted, because there's no need for one," Harry said gruffly.

"See, I told you," Ruth said, winking at Dimitri.

"But yes, you should watch over Ruth," Harry sighed. "She's gotten six death threats since she took her position – god knows the bloody Queen's only gotten ten in that time, so it's fairly disproportionate."

Ruth rolled her eyes and sighed. "Just for that, I'm withholding photos of your granddaughter."

It took a minute, through the haze of the morphine, for him to wrap his head around that. His mouth fell open and he just gaped at her like a fish. "Sophia's here?" he finally managed to question.

"I was at hospital with them when Erin called me," Ruth said. "Six pounds, seven ounces, nineteen inches long – Sophia Ruth Pearce. Beth and Sophia are both doing very well and Graham is over the moon in love with them both… as he should be."

Harry sighed. "And I missed it –"

"You would have been less than amused with some of the threats that came out of Beth's mouth," Ruth admitted. "She was very keen on doing Graham bodily harm during the last bit when Sophia got stuck on her pelvic bone. Can't say I blame her much – Squirt broke her tailbone."

Harry flinched. "You have photos?" he asked. "Since I won't get to hold her till I'm about eighty at this rate, pictures will have to do." He pouted and Ruth was caught between melting at the sadness and rolling her eyes at his blatant manipulation.

She pulled out her phone and flipped through the photos for him. "She's very tempermental, this little girl," she warned him. "She's come out of the womb a troublemaking grumpy git like her grandfather," she scolded.

Harry grunted. "She's lovely," he said, sighing a little. "I still can't believe I'm a bloody grandfather."

Ruth smiled. "How do you think I feel about being a grandmum?" she shot back.

"You're too young and beautiful to be a grandmum," he said, weakly reaching up to stroke her cheek with his good hand. "Why did you marry a grumpy old git like me anyway?"

"Because I love you, you stupid old sod," she protested softly. She leaned in and gave him a kiss on his pouty lips. "And don't you dare forget it because apparently, I'm the only one who does."

He sighed and closed his eyes. "I'm getting tired."

"Then take a nap," she soothed. "I'm not going anywhere."

END PART THIRTY


	31. Chapter 31

Author's note: I've been sick the last few days, hence radio silence. It's hard to think coherently, let alone write, when you have a high fever.

* * *

Thirty-one:  
First Royal Inspection (pt 1)

"There will be a detail of three agents in charge of your personal security," Dimitri said. "It's all we can spare, given the high profile of Prince Harry and his security detail."

Ruth nodded and said, "So, will it be you or will you be hanging in the wings?" She smiled a little at her friend, her former co-worker, the man who was in charge of getting her out of the little scrapes of life now. Since he'd been head of her security, the threats no longer came across her desk… or, rather, he made them disappear before she could see them. She was all right with that; out of sight, out of mind. She didn't take any foolish risks anymore, like stepping outside of her carefully regimented work schedule, even to meet Harry on their bench for a stolen moment. Instead, her brief assignations with her husband were carefully planned. There was no spontaneity left, but if that was the trade for being alive and healthy, it was something she would gladly trade.

"I'll be staying in the suite with you," Dimitri said. "Regardless of Kath and Devon." He winked at her. "Harry's just going to have to deal with the fact that I want you as much as he does – want you safe that is."

She blushed a little and said, "Dimitri, don't even try to sweet talk me. You're far too young for me." The blatant tease was always there. He'd made it clear on more than one occasion that, if Harry was out of the picture, he would have made a move. It was crazy flattering, but Ruth couldn't be bothered with it as anymore than just a joke. She sighed and fiddled with the wedding rings on their chain around her neck. Her fingers were swollen and she couldn't get the rings on – not even the special larger one Harry had gotten her during her pregnancy with Zoe. It was a source of irritation, but there was nothing to be done about it. "I hope this visit goes off without a hitch," she commented. "There hasn't been a Royal Inspection of GCHQ in quite some time. I was there the last time it happened. There were a lot of changes afterward."

"Changes can be good," Dimitri said.

Ruth inclined her head and sighed. "That's when I applied for secondment to Five," she admitted. "Because not all of the changes were good."

He nodded, understanding. "Well, I don't think you'll be the kind of woman to shake things up too much, having lived through it before," he said in a mild tone. "I've got to get back to the office and pack all of the equipment. See you tonight."

Ruth sighed. She had her doubts about this tour. She had her doubts about many things, but chiefly among them right now was being away from Harry and Zoe for three nights. God only knew what damage, what havoc, the terrible two could wreak while she was away.

Zoe toddled into the sitting room, her favorite stuffed bear in her arms. "Mum," she said, holding the bear out and pouting.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" Ruth asked gently. The baby whimpered and threw the bear at her. Ruth looked it over and saw a small tear in the teddy's side. "Oh no! Does Beary have an owwie, love? Mummy must fix that right away, mustn't she?" Ruth got up with a small struggle, and headed to the kitchen where her mending basket was on the counter. She'd struggled to replace a button on one of Harry's shirts the night before – popped in the heat of passion – but Beary was far more important than a couple of needle pricks.

Zoe trailed behind her, sucking on her thumb and whimpering. Ruth sewed the bear up in record time. "Does Beary need a plaster for his owwie?" Ruth asked. "Should he get one of your special plasters?" Zoe nodded vigorously. "Okay, sweetheart," she murmured, getting into the cupboard and retrieving a box of colorful adhesive bandages. They'd stashed boxes of them around the house because, unfortunately, Zoe was at that stage where she was exploring everything and getting hurt more often than not. She stuck a couple of bandages on the bear and said, "There! He's all better now, but he needs Zoe to take care of him, doesn't he?" Zoe nodded and snatched the bear from her mother's grasp, holding it so close that Ruth was sure other seams would pop. And then she took off like a shot.

Ruth just shook her head; there was no doubt that the little girl was hers and Harry's. She had Harry's fierce, determined love, and Ruth's cautious, shy nature about her. It might be a scary combination in the future.

Beth came downstairs with Sophia in her arms, smiling. "So did I miss Dimitri, then?" she asked.

"He just left for Thames House a few minutes ago," Ruth said. "Though you shouldn't be worried about him, seeing as how you're married to Graham –"

"No, I'm not," Beth said dismissively. "I just wanted to say hello. For old times' sake."

Ruth studied her for a moment, seeing nothing untoward in Beth's manner. "He's got a lot to prepare in very little time," she said. "And I'm being escorted to Cheltenham tonight instead of in the morning, so can you and Graham watch Zoe until Harry gets home?"

"Of course," Beth said. "Isn't that what you pay Graham to do anyway?" she teased.

"Yes, but, on occasion, I like to be nice and ask," Ruth said quietly.

She must have sounded funny because Beth said, "Are you all right?"

"Fine – I'm just a little stressed," Ruth replied dismissively. "Inspections always make people tetchy. I've never been on the giving end of the tetchiness before, really." She smiled over at Beth. "I'll be fine."

Beth nodded, and it was clear she was remembering more than one time when Internal Affairs had taken over the Grid under the guise of an inspection. "You're nervous about leaving Zoe with Harry for three nights, aren't you?" Beth asked suddenly. "I don't blame you."

Ruth barked a laugh. "Yes, a little, but only because he thinks that she's rather like a doll most days – he's not going to be able to handle when she gets very upset because mummy's not there to read her a story."

"Well, good thing there are these things called 'phones'," Beth quipped lightly. "And Graham and I will help. Familiarity is good." She looked down at Sophia and smiled. "I can't believe I'm going to have to leave this little one and try to find a job soon. Never thought I was actually the mothering type, you know."

"Change is big and scary," Ruth admitted. "And sometimes good."

Beth smiled and bent to kiss the baby's cheek.

* * *

Harry sighed and tucked Zoe in. He wasn't exactly sure how he was going to manage this for three nights by himself, really. Ruth usually gave the baby her bath and put her to bed while he was finishing up the supper dishes. He didn't know the routine very well, so he'd foundered a bit, but the important bit was that Zoe was asleep and hadn't put up a fuss when he'd mangled a telling of Sleeping Beauty from her storybook.

He missed Ruth already and she'd only been gone a few hours at best. Stupid Royal Inspections, he thought darkly. What use were they anyway? Just a placation to the upper crust that everything was going as it was meant to. And why GCHQ? Why not Six? They had enough lovely skeletons in their closets at Vauxhall Cross.

His phone rang and Zoe stirred. He snatched it up and said, "Hello?" As he spoke, he rubbed his daughter's belly and soothed her back into sleep.

"Harry," Ruth said softly, "did you get her to sleep all right?"

"Yes, but I think she's wondering where mummy got off to," he admitted.

There was a long pause. And then she laughed. "Harry, are you scared of a toddler?"

"I'm not scared of anyone or anything," Harry retorted. Once he was sure Zoe was asleep, he got up and left the room, heading toward the master bedroom. "She's just… there's a degree of normal and I think we've stepped outside of it for her and tomorrow, she'll react badly to you not being here."

"I think you'll handle it admirably," Ruth said, not unkindly. "You know she loves you to bits – you just need to remember it when she's upset."

He grunted and collapsed on the bed. "I miss you already."

She laughed. "I've only been gone since four," she pointed out.

"I miss you every day," he pointed out, "when we're not together." Even sitting across from her in meetings, watching her, he missed the warmth and delight she exuded when they got themselves home. Lately, she'd been very enthusiastic. Incredibly so. He had the love bites to prove it.

"Yes, well… we've only just checked into the hotel," Ruth said. "I'll call back later, after we've gotten some dinner arranged –"

"Are you planning on seeing your mother and step-father while you're there?" Harry asked cautiously.

There was quiet. She sighed and muttered, "Yes. Night after tomorrow, when the inspection is all tied up with a pretty bow and done. And then we'll come home in the morning."

He nodded. "Okay – I suppose I should get something to eat, too."

"And something to drink that's not whiskey or wine," she added.

"Well, now you're just taking away all my fun," he said with a pout. "I miss you."

"I've barely been gone yet," she chuckled.

"Yes, well… we were without each other for three years. I think I'm entitled to miss you even if you're gone for a few minutes," Harry said.

"Go eat your dinner," Ruth sighed. "And I'll call you back."

When she did call back, he'd eaten some beans on toast – liberally laced with ketchup and horseradish – and had some of her peppermint tea to soothe the resulting indigestion. "Hello, darling," he greeted. "What did you eat?"

"A lovely salad," she replied. "Are you upstairs or down?"

"Down," he said. "I was about to take Scarlett and Maggie out to the garden."

"Well, let them out, then!" Ruth exclaimed. He did as she bade, and she said, "So, we need to talk."

"About what? And why did you wait till you were hours away –"

"Because I thought you might overreact," she said.

Harry huffed and rolled his eyes. "I do not overreact."

"You do," she said with a sigh. "How is your shoulder today?"

He flinched and thought about how much pain he'd been in all day, the pins and needles and sheer burning of nerve pain almost making it impossible to work. "Fine," he said evasively.

"Harry," Ruth murmured. "I know it's not getting better. You don't have to lie to me."

He exhaled shakily and said, "I can't stand you seeing me like this. Weak and in pain."

"Harry," she said gently, "Erin called me earlier because she was concerned about you. If everyone on the Grid notices you're hurting, it's bad."

"All I need is to become addicted to pain medicine –"

"Oh, love," she sighed. "I just… maybe you should take it easy."

"Ruth, what are you saying?"

"Nothing," she said hastily. "Did you really yell at Towers?"

"He was being a prat and my bloody hand was numb," Harry grunted. Truth told, Towers had been an insufferable arsehole. He'd only done what he thought was necessary to take the man back down to size.

"You can't yell at someone because your hand is numb," she protested.

"He was being a prick," Harry grumbled. "I was only –"

"Are you hurting right now?" she asked.

He sighed. "Yes." He didn't want to acknowledge it; that only made it feel that much worse.

"Harry, I want you to consider bumping up the timeline on retirement," she said gently. "I don't want to see you suffering needlessly."

"It's not your decision, Ruth," he said, surprised by how needlessly harsh his tone sounded. "God, I'm sorry, I didn't mean –"

"You're in pain," she said simply. "I understand."

He sighed and drummed his numb fingers on his knee. "You married an old man," he said, finally. "I shouldn't have asked you to do that. I shouldn't have asked you to have children with me. I'm falling apart and now you have to deal with it and you shouldn't have to. You should be with someone younger, less grumpy and bugger all."

"Henry James Pearce, I don't want someone younger. I want you, you silly old bastard," she whispered. "But you could do me a favor and work on the grumpiness."

His lips twitched up a little. "Okay, well…"

"I just want you to be happy," Ruth said softly. "And I know you aren't right now."

"Well, no, I'm not – but it's more because you're all the way over there instead of over here on the couch with me," he said, pouting. "And tomorrow, you're going on tour with some handsome young Prince of the Realm and you'll forget all about me."

"Grumpy old bugger," she scoffed. "Besides, if I wanted some handsome young thing, Dimitri is close enough at hand –"

"Ruth!"

"I'm kidding," she murmured. "Harry go upstairs and lie down."

"I'm not going to do just what you say because you said it –"

"Do you want to have phone sex or not?" she shot back.

That was it: all of his blood went straight south. She was too damn sexy for her own good. Even a good drive apart.

* * *

Ruth extended her hand to Prince Harry and smiled. "Hello, I'm Ruth Pearce," she greeted warmly. "We've not had the occasion to meet yet, Your Highness."

The young man grinned at her and said, "No, but that's probably from lack of my grandmother wanting to share her assets than anything else."

"The plan is to start with a meeting of the division heads, then go floor by floor," Ruth said cheerfully. "Inspections are painfully boring and there's a lot of handholding the geniuses, to be brutally honest. I should know; I used to work here."

"And what was a lovely lady like yourself doing with the geeks?" Prince Harry inquired.

She held back a smirk. "Oh, just a bit of translating," Ruth said dismissively. "Throw me to the wolves and I'll come back leading the pack," she quoted. "I took a secondment to MI-5 and the rest is history." They walked up the steps to the guest entrance of the building.

* * *

Ruth was just about to wrap up Prince Harry's poor interrogation of one of the translators in the North Sea Division when the door burst open and a disheveled woman with strawberry blonde hair and kind blue eyes came in. "Shit – I'm late back from the doctor's and of course they're in my division," Sam Buxton muttered across the quiet room. "Sorry, ignore me," she said, settling in at her station and putting her earbuds in.

Ruth straightened up and smiled a little. She hadn't known what had happened to the woman after her stint in TRING, but she was glad to see she was at least relatively sane at least. Ruth scribbled down a message in code – old code, their old code used to communicate about things Harry would not approve of – and headed over to Sam's station. She leaned in and looked over Sam's shoulder, then carefully dropped the crumpled paper on Sam's desk. Sam snatched it up, the motion blocked from view by Ruth's body.

The message simply said, HELLO, OLD FRIEND, and had a string of numbers and letters.

Hopefully, Sam would understand.

* * *

Dimitri was a little annoyed by Ruth climbing up the walls. Prince Harry had invited her out to a very posh restaurant and she'd refused, citing an urge to call home and check on her husband and child. Now she was pacing the hotel room anxiously, talking to her belly and pretending not to notice Dimitri's irritation.

"Are you going to tell me why we're eating room service instead of a nice roast?" he finally asked.

"Old asset," Ruth said. "Got back in touch today. She's meant to turn up any time now if she read the bloody message right."

"And you thought to tell me this when exactly?" he challenged.

She gave him a withering look. "Her name's Sam. She worked in Section D about the time I started. She works for North Sea Division, GCHQ now. Stellar analyst. Less spying, more listening."

"So she's vetted?"

"She's got level B yellow clearance," Ruth said.

Dimitri hesitated, then nodded. "All right," he said.

There was a timid knock on the door, and Dimitri went to answer it. "Reddish hair, blue eyes, freckles?" he asked. When Ruth nodded, he opened the door and let Sam in.

"Ruth!" Sam squealed, rushing over and hugging her. "Gosh, you've got a belly on you – how far along are you?"

Ruth smiled and hugged her back. "Six months," she replied. "But it's twins, so… I'm extra large."

"But everything's okay?" Sam asked. "Zaf and Adam and –"

Ruth's face fell and she said softly, "I'm afraid Harry, Malcolm, and I are all that's left. And Malcolm's retired; he comes round to play with Zoe on the weekends sometimes, though."

"Zoe?" Sam asked.

"My daughter," Ruth said with a smile. "He's her godfather."

"Wow – did you finally find some hot man who loves you for your brain or what?" Sam asked, laughing. "You were always a bit of a hopeless case on the Grid…"

Dimitri snorted a laugh. "Ruth? Hopeless?"

"Well, you met me well-married, Dee," Ruth said, laughing a little. "Dimitri, can you order up a nice rare steak and chips with vinegar, please? I'm starving."

Once Dimitri was ordering their dinners, Sam said, "So – your husband… does he know you're a spook, then?"

Ruth laughed. "He better," she said, extending her hand to Sam. "Allow me to introduce myself properly. I'm Ruth Pearce, Duchess of Albany, DCB."

Sam just gaped at her for a moment, then said, "Bloody hell – you married Harry bloody Pearce? When? Why? You have kids with Harry Pearce? Seriously? What on earth do you see in him?"

Ruth blushed and smiled. "Ah, well, it'll be ten years gone in January when I married him," she said. "We have Zoe and now these ferocious little ones, and… well, I married him because I love him. He'll tell you it's all very romantic and things, but he actually proposed so I could have his pension if he managed to get knocked off."

Sam was still sitting there, dazed and mouth open. "Are you even kidding?"

"No, as far as romantic proposals, Harry's was not," Ruth replied with a small smile. "Adam and Zaf found out a little bit after you left that we'd been hiding in the shadows for a while."

"You did a good job of it – I thought you were dating some bloke in Requisitions and Asset Management –"

Dimitri cleared his throat. "Can I interrupt?"

Sam smiled beguilingly up at him. "You can interrupt me any time," she said with a chuckle.

"Harry and Ruth have their ups and downs, but they're very committed," Dimitri said. "And very much in love."

"Yes," Ruth agreed. "Not to mention we've got a granddaughter – and that just kind of seals the deal, when grandbabies come into the picture." She winked at Dimitri. "Actually, you know, Sam's probably single, Dee. You might mix business with pleasure – she's signed the Official Secrets Act."

Sam tried to keep a straight face. "I think Ruth just wants you to take a night off," she said. "What did you overhear that you weren't supposed to?"

Dimitri would've blushed if he wasn't a more composed man. He'd been listening to the wiretap on the hotel phone while Harry and Ruth had had very torrid, passionate phone sex the night before. He'd said as much that morning, and to Ruth's credit, she hadn't even been able to blush or keep a straight face about it. Hormones and all. So here she was, trying to atone for it.

"Harry and I just had an interesting conversation last night," Ruth said. "Poor Dimitri might have been a bit traumatized by it."

"Oh… OH. Ruth, you didn't have phone sex!" Sam giggled. "Oh my god, you DID –"

"So you should take the night off," Ruth said with a smile and a wink. "Take Sam out, have a bit of fun, and don't tell Harry. I'll just be at my mother and step-father's for dinner, anyway. Nothing the underlings can't handle."

Sam grinned at Dimitri. "I rather like that idea."

Ruth rolled her eyes. It was blatantly obvious that Sam liked Dimitri because he was eye candy. What was less obvious was that Dimitri was attracted to the bubbly Scottish woman – but Ruth could see it in the tiny reactions he had to her presence. It was similar to the way he'd been with Beth, before Beth and Graham fell in together. A closeness, a kind of peace, a softening around the edges.

Dimitri shifted almost imperceptibly from one foot to the other. "I think I'd like that, too," he said. "If I can make the proper arrangements for Ruth's protection, that is."

"Why do you have such tight security?" Sam asked abruptly. "It's not like Harry doesn't keep you on the Grid under lock and key –"

"I don't work for Five anymore," Ruth said cautiously. "And there have been… threats."

"Bloody hell, what do you mean you don't work for Five?" Sam gasped. "I thought nothing and nobody was ever going to get you out of that office –"

Oh, how many times she'd said that. And, in the end, it had been something better to have left. "I work for the Queen's Assistant Corps now," Ruth said. "I'm in charge of compiling intelligence information for Her Majesty. It was necessary, after I prevented an assassination on Her Majesty's person by the Russians, to shower me with public affections. Like the duchy and the job. But it all comes with a price, being close to Her Majesty, doesn't it?" She smiled tightly. "Hence Dimitri and the clowns."

"Well…" Sam paused. "I was thinking about putting in for a secondment back to Five. Not in Section D, of course, but… somewhere a little less active."

Ruth smiled a little and said, "Well, I might need a replacement when I go on maternity leave. Could I tempt you?"

Sam's smile lit up the room, and Ruth caught Dimitri watching Sam instead of Ruth. She bit back a chuckle as Sam said, "Oh yes, I could very well be tempted."

Some things never changed.

END PART THIRTY-ONE


	32. Chapter 32

Thirty-two:  
First Royal Inspection (pt 2)

If there was one thing Ruth couldn't abide, it was awkwardly meeting ex-boyfriends in places and situations where she was meant to be comfortable. And as she looked at Kirk Ferguson and saw confusion and betrayal in his expression, it made it all that much worse. She suddenly felt guilty for having ignored his calls after she'd come out of deep cover in Project Lyonesse all those years ago, but she'd been with Harry – she'd been happy. What could he have given her that compared to what she had built up with Harry?

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Ferguson," she said politely, slipping back into her role and refusing to dwell on her past – indiscretions… mistakes… things that might have been if she'd been inclined toward them. "You're the team lead for international internet traffic, then?"

"Yes," Kirk said. He kept neutral, which she supposed was good, but there was tension in his clipped reply. "I break things down by originating IP and each member of the team is tasked with monitoring specific areas of interest. We have special programs for intercept and codebreaking that we've developed in-house to assist with expedition of security decryption."

Prince Harry spoke up. "So, in other words, you sort through the chaff of the internet and try to make sense of what's left?"

"Aye, something like that, Your Highness," Kirk agreed, his dark gaze never leaving Ruth. If he meant to make her feel guilty, she'd be quick to remind him that it was he that had called them off in the first place – in response to her going undercover. She'd never asked him to sign the Official Secrets Act, had never told him that she'd worked for MI-5 at the time. That, she might feel guilty about.

"And a good portion of that intelligence ends up in the hands of the Home and Foreign Offices," Ruth said. "By the time it gets to my desk, it's usually unintelligible, so I tend to hack the source files to get the raw feed."

Prince Harry cleared his throat. "Is that wise?" he asked.

Ruth shrugged. "Necessary," she merely said. Kirk was still staring at her, this time, his gaze was filled with something much darker. A niggling suspicion began to form in the back of Ruth's mind, and it started processing information faster and faster. "Mr. Ferguson, would you show us how your team collates data for a few minutes before we move on to the next department, please? I have no doubt of your skills behind a computer, but His Highness might wish to have a demonstration." She stepped back and added, "I need to take a quick break."

She retreated to the corridor, Dimitri on her heels. "Get someone to check on Kirk Ferguson's security clearances," she instructed him very quietly. "If he's not a level A red, there's information in some of his reports that he shouldn't know about. Pass this on quietly to Five. Also… he's my ex. I don't like the way he was looking at me, like he was going to say something. Check his personal life."

Dimitri paused. "Ruth?"

"No, there's something off," she said firmly. "About him, about the intel." She took a deep breath and let it out. "I didn't tell anyone – not you, not Harry – but the first few threats came from inside the network, via email. I pinpointed that they were from the GCHQ network, but I couldn't… I couldn't get any further. The algorithms were too complex to break completely."

"What are you saying, Ruth?"

"Someone inside GCHQ is behind my death threats," she said, as if he was stupid and not paying any attention at all. "The initial ones, anyway. And the way Kirk Ferguson was looking at me in there just now, my money's all double or nothing on him."

"Should I whisk you away and plead indisposition?" Dimitri asked.

"No, I have to go back in there and proceed like nothing's happened," Ruth sighed. "But make sure Erin and Callum have some idea of what's going on. We can't double my security here, but –"

"Should I cancel my outing with Sam?"

"Dear lord, no," Ruth said. "I'd never hear the end of it from her. You go on – the others can handle things. I don't think he'd be stupid enough to make a move now."

"Stranger things have happened," he replied. "Should I tell Harry or –"

"NO. If you tell Harry, he'll jump the gun and come arrest the man and if it's wrongful… god knows what it could do. Politics," she muttered. "No, just… report in like normal."

"Ruth –"

"This job is about calculated risk," she said, looking up at him. "I'm here at personal risk because my sovereign asked me to be. You're here to protect me. You do your job and let me do mine, please." She went into the ladies' and left him in the corridor. She texted Sam and coded the information in their old, unbreakable code that was based on a joke at Malcolm and Danny's expense all those years ago. Without the joke, it was unbreakable gibberish.

The reply was quick and concise, a string of letters and numbers that brought a smile to Ruth's lips. Sam was especially eager not to have her date with Dimitri Levendis broken up by some arse in GCHQ, so she'd do whatever Ruth asked.

It was good to work for the Queen.

* * *

Ruth settled in at the table, looking across at her mother and step-father. It was a little awkward, but less so than it would have been five years ago, or even ten. When she'd lived and worked in Cheltenham, it had been easy enough to avoid them by going to the market late in the evening and avoiding the restaurants that they frequented. There had been a kind of peace in avoidance.

"So, how is Zoe?" David asked. "She's all your mother talks about –"

"She's precious," Ruth replied, rubbing her belly when one of the twins shifted abruptly, catching her in the ribs. "Very well-behaved for the most part, though, I'm sure once she gets a little older and realizes that her daddy will capitulate to just about anything so long as she stops crying, that that will change."

"She's up and walking now," Elizabeth said with a smile. "She's quite adorable as she stumbles around."

"It's been a while since you've been over," Ruth replied. "She's very much running rather than walking now. And she's grown into the stage where any kind of injury is awful and she cries a lot – no matter who's injured. You should've seen her day before yesterday – Beary popped a seam and she was making it out to be a fatal injury."

"Poor teddy," David commented.

Ruth had to admit that this was actually quite pleasant. As long as the conversation didn't veer into other territory, she'd be fine. And Devon was posted at the back garden and Kath at the front door, so her safety wasn't really an issue, but she'd worn an operational earpiece anyway.

Which is why, when, five minutes later, Kath called, "White male, mid-forties, coming to the front door," she was suddenly nervous. Her mother got up and went to answer it, laughing and letting the man in. "New arrival has not been vetted," Kath said. "Alpha two, respond. RESPOND."

Ruth got up immediately and excused herself to the loo, leaving a confused David in her wake. "Alpha one, identify man," she ordered quietly. "Alpha one?"

The door to the loo opened and Kath shook her head. "Exit route?" the security guard demanded. "Is there a way out of the house that doesn't go round the back? Devon is dead."

"No, no, no," Ruth said. "Give me your backup sidearm."

"No," Kath said firmly. "I'm not going to allow you to take your safety into your own hands. It's not what we're meant to do – I've called Dimitri but no answer."

"Give me the gun," Ruth ordered. "Give me the bloody gun – I'm not going to let you take a bloody bullet for me when I can manage quite fine on my own." Kath shook her head, and Ruth scowled. "Fine, I'll let you deal with the repercussions later."

"We have to get out and to a safe house," Kath said.

"Unless you're going to insist on shinnying down the drainpipe, the likelihood is that I'm not getting out of here without a confrontation," Ruth snapped. "So… what's your plan?"

"First of all, what did you do?" Kath asked. She opened the loo door a crack and peered out.

"I've been investigating a security breach between GCHQ and the Security Services," Ruth admitted. "For several months. I've been getting death threats, hence you lot and –" She paused and pulled her phone out of her bra. She sent two texts – one coded to Sam and one uncoded to Dimitri. "So, you better at least try to protect me."

"The corridor is clear, as far as I can see."

Ruth nodded and took a deep breath. "Let's go," she said.

They made it down the stairs and as far as the living room. Kirk came out of nowhere and shots were fired – Kath didn't move from her prone location on the floor, and Ruth was left stood in the center of the room, hands up in surrender. "Kirk, please don't," she pleaded, her voice hard with practiced calm.

He appraised her with a cold, unfeeling look. "I wouldn't shoot you," he said. "By the way, your parents have been lovely neighbors, inviting me around tonight to meet you and things… too bad the wine was poisoned. You were meant to have some; my intel was rather lacking in not saying you were pregnant."

"So, change of plans, then?" she said, laughing softly. "What do you intend to do to me?"

His smile was sad, cruel almost. She didn't know who he was working for, who had twisted and manipulated him to this degree, but she wasn't sure she would live long enough to find out. Her greatest regret was in not calling Zoe before supper; she would've loved to hear her darling girl's sweet voice one more time… "I think," Kirk said, "that you should tell your husband you're leaving him."

"He won't believe that," Ruth said very softly.

"You will make him believe that," he instructed brusquely. "Sit down. Now."

"If I manage to make him believe that I've left him," Ruth said softly, "what's going to happen to me?"

"We'll leave the country and wait for further instructions," he growled. "Which is the backup plan."

Dear god, he was no spook and he was no criminal, but he was dangerous and holding a gun on her. Her safety and the safety of the twins was paramount above the rest. "Okay," she finally acquiesced, sitting down on the couch. "Do you promise no one will hurt my family if I do as you ask?"

"No one will hurt your family," he hissed.

She nodded. "All right. I'll do it."

She only prayed that he would keep his word.

* * *

"Harry, there's a video coming into the system with Ruth's old codes," Callum yelled across the Grid. "I can't access it – it's meant for your eyes only, answering codes."

Harry nodded, a sinking feeling overtaking him. They never sent each other videos, not even by phone, not even when it was Zoe or Sophia… This was nothing good. "Erin, will you join me in my office?" he asked. "I need a witness." Erin nodded mutely and followed him.

He settled in at the desk and punched up his answering codes, a subtle joke between him and his wife that no one else understood, and saw her face appear on screen. Just her face and shoulders. Red flag number two.

"Harry," she began, her voice soft, "this… thing between us… this marriage… it's over. We're done, finished, over." She took a deep breath and continued after a pause, her eyes brighter than normal with emotion, pain, and he leaned in closer. "I deserve so much more than a broken old man, don't you think? I hate what we are together. It was bad enough that you drink too much, but sleeping with half the women in the Service? Low blow. Did you think I wouldn't find out? Bad enough you met Samantha Buxton on OUR bench at bloody 10 am in broad daylight, but that Johanna girl, too? God, Harry, how did you think I'd react to that?" Her lips were thin, pursed together into a tense line. "It's over," she repeated. "No more arguing over where to start the Grand Tour. No more of you stealing the blankets. No more sharing the clean-up when Scarlett has an accident. I'm done. Why do you think Malcolm and I have gotten so chummy lately? He doesn't mind sloppy seconds. Don't try to find me; it will only make things worse for both of us." The video blinked out, but not before he saw a tear roll down her cheek.

Erin was very quiet, then said, "My god, that woman is such a bitch –"

Harry shook his head and said urgently, "Force an emergency secondment for Samantha Buxton from GCHQ through the system. Get Malcolm Wynn-Jones's codes back up and running, increase his security clearance if needbe, but I need them both on the Grid as soon as possible."

"Harry –"

"She was sending a coded message," he snapped. "Very carefully worded so whoever has her was meant to believe everything she said."

"I don't understand," Erin said.

Harry looked at her and said, "Sam and Malcolm have the ability to find her. I'm to meet Sam at the bench that Ruth and I see each other on the Embankment at 10 am. I assume she's with Dimitri – Ruth wouldn't leave that to chance if there was an issue she was aware of. And she's safe – and going to New York."

"How the hell did you get that from… that horrible message?"

Harry said, "I told you, it was carefully coded. She knows what buttons to push, just how much to reveal. She's safe – Johanna is our safe word."

"Who is Johanna?"

"Our daughter," Harry said very quietly. "Gone but not forgotten."

"I don't understand –"

"You don't need to," he grunted. "Get Callum to get on to JFK, La Guardia, and Newark. Have them hold anyone meeting Ruth's description in customs upon entry."

"Harry –"

"Just. Do. It."

He refused to show her how frightened he was for Ruth's safety. He knew that she was aware of things on a scale that he wasn't privy to, that all of this could be related to that. His pay grade wasn't high enough.

He winced. "Erin, I'm sorry –"

"You're utterly certain she's been taken and not left you?" Erin asked.

He nodded. "She would never say she deserved more than me," he whispered. "She's always said that I'm exactly what she wants – what she needs."

Erin paused, then nodded. "If you're certain – then I will do everything in my power to bring her home, Harry."

That was it: all he wanted. Ruth, home and safe from harm.

END PART THIRTY-TWO


	33. Chapter 33

Thirty-three:  
First Royal Inspection (pt 3)

Harry and his surveillance team were in place at 9:45. "Alpha one," Erin said, "Theta team is in position. There is a marksman on the roof, in case of anything untoward."

"Alpha one acknowledged," Harry said quietly. He hoped that nothing had happened to Dimitri and Sam en route – that was entirely out of his control. They might be one of Ruth's last, best hopes. He was too close to the operation: all he wanted was to find Ruth and bring her home by any means necessary. His judgment was clouded – badly.

"Alpha one, Levendis is approaching with a woman matching Samantha Buxton's description," Helen said. "I have line of sight."

It was only a few moments before Sam slumped onto the bench beside him and said, "Harry, she's going to be okay. Kirk Ferguson is many things – a traitor, a liar, god awful in bed – but he's not going to hurt her."

He was very quiet for a long moment, then said, "He murdered two of my officers and my in-laws."

Sam chewed on her lip, looking hesitant at how much she should be telling him. "I contacted Ruth anonymously about Kirk using codes he had no right to have," she admitted. "That's what kicked this off – I saw him monitoring the Anglo-Russian reception and the Queen's reception during the Russian talks. He should never have had access to either of those operations."

Harry nodded slowly. "What's his clearance?"

Sam glanced over at him. "Lower than mine," she said. "I think level 4 green."

"You know I made them reinstate your clearance when you transferred to GCHQ," Harry said softly, thoughtfully. "You were always very good at what you did."

"Yes, but I've been punished by being put in the North Sea Division," she muttered.

"You're the Division Chief."

"I'm not quite sure I ever got the spook out of my blood," Sam admitted.

"Good thing you're being seconded to Thames House with immediate effect," Harry said. She looked up at him in surprise, and he remembered the day he had interviewed her initially years before. "If this operation is successful, I'll make the secondment permanent, Sam. You've been away from the Grid too long."

She said, "You don't have to –"

"Sam," Harry said quietly, "I know I don't have to. I want to. After the business with Danny… I owe you another chance."

Sam inhaled deeply and met his gaze. "Okay," she said. "Let's go brief the team. I'm told there are lots of new faces."

"There always are," he replied. He stood up and Helen and Greg converged on their location. Erin and Dimitri stood point, and several other plain-clothes officers maintained their vigil. "Let's go, Sam, before it rains."

* * *

Ruth had spent the whole flight scared to death that Kirk would lose his shit if she did something more than go to the loo or ask for water. He was nervous, fidgety, and she knew he'd never thought to be doing something like this. The spook in her was a little upset that she'd been able to travel better alone when she was being possibly pursued by Oliver Mace and his cronies. She only hoped that Harry had understood her message and that something would happen based on that, because at the moment, she was helpless, powerless, to stop anyone – let alone Kirk and whoever he was working for. She had her suspicions that he'd been working with Elena Gavrik, but if that were true, who was he working with now? Had Ilya known all along about his wife's intentions and had actually been the man behind the machine?

They disembarked from the plane at La Guardia International Airport and made their tired way through the customs line. A young woman – couldn't be older than twenty or so – eyeballed Ruth's passport, then Ruth, then her computer monitor, then her tablet. Kirk was already through, waiting on the other side. The young woman said, "I'm afraid there's an issue with your passport, Ms. Smith. Will you please come with me?"

Kirk panicked as Ruth was led away – and it bloody well served him right, she thought vindictively.

Once she was sequestered in a small room off the main inspection area, the young woman said, "If I've got this wrong, my bosses are going to kill me – is your name Ruth Pearce?"

Ruth almost kissed her – her relief was overwhelming and she began to cry. "Yes," she exhaled, choking back a sob. "Yes, I'm Ruth Pearce –"

"We've got less than five minutes," the woman said. "I'm to inject you with a tracking device somewhere your captor won't find the bump."

"Well, he won't bloody see me naked," Ruth swore, "so put it in my hip flesh." She winced when the tracker burrowed under her skin, and said, "What frequency is it transmitting at?"

"72," the woman answered, "like MI-5 requested. The link activates as soon as your body heat warms the circuitry."

Ruth nodded. "My friend created these transmitters," she said, wondering if Harry had gotten Malcolm onto the Grid yet. If anyone could help, he could – and would. "Can I borrow a phone?"

The woman said, "Better yet, we've got Skype enabled on our tablets. I can connect directly to Section D – what's Section D, anyway?"

Ruth smiled sadly. "Counter-terrorism," she said softly. "I… I used to work there. They're looking for me. I have to let them know that I'm alive."

The woman nodded and said, "I'm Sarah, by the way." She dialed up the Grid.

"Thank you, Sarah," Ruth murmured. She saw Harry, sitting at his desk, tensely flipping through some files. "Harry," she said. "Harry, look at me – I haven't much time." He jerked and leaned over to adjust his monitor. "I love you and I didn't mean anything I said – you know that, right?"

"Yes, I do," Harry replied. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, for now – we just landed at La Guardia. He hasn't told me anything else about where we're going, but the tracking transmitter is on and functional. I assume you've called in favors to monitor it?"

He nodded and said, "Don't provoke him."

"No bloody shit," Ruth said. "I'm flying by the seat of my pants with no backup."

"There's a FBI team that will be tracking your signal," Harry said. "They will be monitoring communications and the whole lot – they're your backup. Ruth… just come home safely, please. No playing hero."

"I'm not a hero," she murmured. "I'm just a woman, doing a job, trying to make you proud of me."

His fingers reached up and obscured the picture for just a moment. "Ruth," Harry said softly, "I've never not been proud of you. I love you. You are my wife and damn fine at everything you do – except dancing. I've never had a harder time trying to teach someone to slow dance."

She laughed and said, "Harry, I have to go – I'm sorry – I love you –"

"I love you, too," he promised, the words low and tense. She hoped to god that she'd hear them again soon.

She terminated the call and looked up at Sarah. "My husband," Ruth said simply. "How much longer?"

"Less than a minute," Sarah said. She'd been scanning in Ruth's false passport information so if it came up in the system, it would automatically flag. She handed back the passport and said, "I wish you all the luck in the world, Mrs. Pearce. I wish I could do more."

"You've done enough," Ruth promised as she opened the door and stepped back into the harsh light of captivity.

* * *

"I'm Sam Buxton," Sam began hesitantly in the conference room. "I'm former Section D, but I currently work at GCHQ. I brought Ruth into the middle of a right mess – there's an information leak at GCHQ. Worse than the normal ones. Someone who knew about the attempt on the Queen's life before it was meant to happen. Ruth and I believe it was Kirk Ferguson running a black op in collusion with the Russians, including Elena Gavrik. The intelligence points to that. Unfortunately, Kirk has Ruth and we have minimal access to the wiped portions of the servers where the evidence was held." She looked over at Malcolm. "I've got a couple of memory sticks that you can look over and get back with me on. There should be location protocols on the files, but if not, we can correlate the data with secured terminals and records."

Malcolm nodded and said, "We should also attempt to hack into the FSB –"

"No, too dangerous," Callum said.

Moira added, "We tried last week for something unrelated and their people slammed our one weak point shut faster than we could blink. They're impenetrable at the moment."

Malcolm rolled his eyes. "You young things forget how to knock," he said with suffering annoyance in his tone. "And we're not playing by the rules anymore – they have Ruth."

"Yes," Harry said. "They have Ruth and she is at their mercy at the moment. We should tread carefully, Malcolm. The issue becomes thus: Ruth has the third highest security clearance in the entirety of the United Kingdom, only behind the PM and the Queen. They will want to acquire information; codes, assets, operations, black ops that she knows have been sanctioned. These people won't hesitate to torture her, and as we all know, she is six months pregnant. This cannot be allowed to drag on to a point where she feels she must become a traitor to protect herself – or Zoe and myself."

"We should also be looking closer to home," Erin said quietly. "The DG called me at home last night to tell me that he knows about our operation. Did anyone give him information about it?" At the blank stares around the room, she sighed. "Great. So, Dolby pretty much accused Ruth of being a traitor and a plant in the Security Services just to get to the Queen's side to look innocent when everything crashes down around us."

"Bloody hell," Harry grunted. "That definitely puts a spin on things…"

Sam raised her hand, then said, "I've got a transcript of a call between Ferguson and Dolby from a few weeks ago, talking about the failure at the Queen's reception. It's… coded, but you can tell that that's what's being talked about. Maybe someone can crack the code?"

Moira said, "Give it to me – I'm good with linguistic patterns."

Harry said, "Before we start something we can't undo – this operation is in violation of direct orders from the DG to cease and desist. We must do it in tandem with our normal work."

"What does Towers say?" Dimitri asked.

"Towers says bring my bloody wife home as soon as possible or the Queen will have heads on spikes," Harry said. "She's quite fond of Ruth, as several of you know."

"We're all quite fond of Ruth," Malcolm said. "Harry… we will bring her home."

Harry nodded and got up, leaving before they could see him lose control of his emotions.

* * *

Harry was hovering over Sam's shoulder, reading the transcript, when Dimitri brought over a cup of tea and a mug of coffee. "Black as the heart of the man who took our Ruth," Dimtri said. "Maybe you should go home, Harry –"

"Blow it out your ear, Levendis," Harry grunted, reaching for the coffee.

"Is there any way you can get to registry and pull a file?" Sam asked Dimitri, fluttering her eyelashes at him. "It's the DG's appointment book I need."

Dimitri nodded. "Of course –"

"Thanks for the tea, love," she shot back as he retreated.

Harry said, "He's too young for you, Sam."

"I'm not that bloody old," she shot back. "I've almost got this whole bloody web figured out, thanks to Malcolm and Callum, Harry. I just need to tug that last string…"

"And when you do, I'll arrest Dolby," Harry growled. "And pray that he doesn't order Ferguson to kill Ruth."

Sam said, "I'm coming with you. When you arrest the prick. I want to know how it looks when he realizes he's been outplayed by a lot of retired spooks."

"He's dangerous," Harry said.

"So we'll take Hottie McLevendis and a gun along," she said impishly. "I really want to hurt him, Harry. No one gets to hurt my family – and you're all still my family, aren't you?"

"I meant what I said about you coming back to the Grid," Harry said. "Let's get Ruth home in one piece."

* * *

Dolby had crumbled under pressure – not even much pressure, which was a disappointment to Harry. He wanted to throw a punch, scream, plot his demise… not lead him away to the cells and call the FBI to take Ferguson down with extreme prejudice. He wanted to feel something other than empty and sad for the man who had casually ordered his wife's abduction and eventual murder. He wanted to hate him. He wanted to hate Ilya and Elena Gavrik more for having gotten Dolby into their pockets, but he found himself too tired to contemplate much more.

An hour later, he received word that Ruth was safe at the British embassy, none the worse for wear, aside from exhaustion. So she was going to be admitted to hospital for observation for the next couple of days until they were sure she was stable enough to travel home. He didn't even hesitate: he booked two plane fares and a hotel room.

He was in the middle of giving orders when the PM called, appointing him temporary DG of MI-5. "With all due respect, sir," Harry said, "I'm going to New York as soon as possible with my daughter. But I will have Erin Watts fill in in my stead until my return."

Many hours, and a cranky toddler later, they disembarked at La Guardia. He was met by several people from the FBI and Homeland Security, and one petite, blonde woman with a ready smile. "Mr. Pearce, I'm Sarah," she said. "I helped your wife when she came through customs."

Harry set Zoe's car seat down and two of their bags, and reached out to pull the woman into a tight embrace. "Thank you," he said very softly, earnestly. "You've done something I can never begin to repay you for."

Sarah gave him a kiss on the cheek. "You can take me out to dinner before you all leave," she said cheerfully. "I'm just glad I got it right and she's safe now."

"What do you mean, got it right?" Harry asked.

She said, "There were two women on the flight who might have been her, but I took a wild guess and…"

He hugged her again and said, "Thank you."

Zoe woke up on his shoulder and whimpered, "Mummah?"

"Not yet, sweetheart," Harry said softly. "Let's go change your nappy and get you a bottle and then we'll go see mummy, okay?"

The little girl perked up and said, "Mummah, dahhdee."

"Yes, we've come all this way so you can see mummy," he said gently.

* * *

Ruth was about ready to strangle the next person to walk in the door of her hospital suite. Of course, she was treated like royalty with heightened security and the FBI goon squad outside her door, but the nurses and doctors who were constantly checking on her made her very annoyed. She was on a fluid drip and had had something that might once have been food in another life brought round, but she was just tired of being poked and prodded.

And she wanted Harry. When she'd called the Grid, Erin had been in his office, and had explained quickly that Harry was with Zoe. Which was fine, but why the hell wouldn't he pick up his mobile, then? They hadn't spoken for two days, and she was worried and anxious – maybe that's why her vitals were going funny. She'd been listening to the nurses complain about her.

She huffed and reached for the television remote. She finally found a broadcast of the Jerry Springer Show, and watched in morbid fascination as she wondered if any of those people on the show actually held down a job.

A little voice from the doorway said, "Mummah?"

She looked up and gasped. "Harry –"

"MUMMAH!" Zoe shrieked excitedly, flailing her arms.

Harry set the baby down and she ran over with Beary in her little arms. "Up, mummah, up!" Zoe insisted. He caught up with her and lifted her up onto the bed. "Mummah!" The baby immediately cuddled up and tucked her face in Ruth's ribcage, sighing happily.

Ruth smiled up at Harry with tears in her eyes. "That's why you didn't answer your mobile," she accused softly.

"Yes, we had a rather long flight," he said, leaning in and giving her a lingering kiss. "It was the Gavriks and Dolby," he murmured. "Dolby was meant to set you up after your death. Kirk Ferguson was just a peon in all of this."

She hesitated. "He died when the FBI stormed the hotel room."

"I wish I could say I cared," Harry muttered, "but as long as you and the babies are safe, I don't care what happened to the man that abducted you and killed your mother and step-father. He's just as guilty as Dolby."

She sighed and kissed him gently. "I want to go home," she whined. "So I can start fixing this cock-up –"

"Ruth, I've been temporarily appointed as DG."

She smiled at him. "I wish I could say I was surprised, but that would be a lie – of course, that just means that you might continue on in that capacity if you prove yourself worthy."

"I want to retire," he announced abruptly. "Soon. Soon as the babies are born."

"Harry…"

"No," he said. "You were right. I can't keep going on at this tilt forever. It's time to stop, before the Service spits me back out."

She kissed him and whispered, "If that's what you want, I promise you I won't hold you back from it."

"Especially not in that gurney," he pointed out.

She smacked him on the shoulder in playful exasperation, happy that she still had the ability to do that.

END PART THIRTY-THREE


	34. Chapter 34

Thirty-four:  
First Royal Inspection (pt 4)

Ruth sighed softly and brushed Zoe's hair with her fingers as the baby slept, draped all across her mother's chest, making it hard to move, breathe, or think. But Ruth was happy the baby was comfortable, and that the other two weren't moving around like crazy things. "Mummy loves you so much," she whispered. "I'm sorry I went away. I shan't do it again, my love."

Harry watched from the doorway to the hotel suite's loo, and she glanced up at him. "Hello," she murmured. "Did you have a good shower?"

He smiled a little and said, "She missed you a lot. I'm glad I brought her along."

Ruth smiled and kissed her daughter's head. "Poor baby probably thought I was never coming home," she murmured.

"I thought you might never come home," Harry said, looking down at his feet. "For a fleeting second when the shots were fired – I thought you were never coming back to me."

"Don't be daft," she murmured. "I have too much to live for, Harry Pearce."

He looked back up at her and smiled. "So," he said, "our flight home isn't till the day after tomorrow. What do you say we take Zoe to Central Park tomorrow and go to the Zoo and watch the boats and just… be a happy family?"

She smiled and said, "I think we'd all like that very much."

"Good," he replied, coming over and picking Zoe up. She whimpered and struggled a little in her sleep, but he rubbed her back and soothed her before moving her out to the little kid's fold-away bed that the hotel staff had procured for her and had set up in the living area. Ruth knew the little girl was absolutely knackered and would probably sleep till they woke her up in the morning. Time zones and circadian rhythms weren't to be trifled with.

He came back into the bedroom and said, "Now… where were we?"

"You look as though you have want to talk to me about something," she replied.

"I do," he said, taking off his towel and putting on his trunks. He then joined her on the bed and said, "I don't want you to think we didn't want to save you from Ferguson just because they didn't whisk you away at the airport. We took a gamble that you were safer with him than if we lifted you – because we had no idea who was pulling the strings."

"Harry," she murmured, "you don't have to explain anything to me. I understand completely – and I assumed that you'd reach the same conclusions I had, and maybe much quicker than I did."

His hand came to rest on her belly, and stroked gently. One of the babies kicked strongly in reply, and he sighed. "I was frightened for you, for the kids, and I couldn't turn it off, Ruth. I couldn't push back my emotions and I almost couldn't do what needed to be done to protect you."

"Harry," she whispered, "you didn't fail. The team didn't fail. Don't talk like you did, all right? I'm here, the babies are safe, the evil has been vanquished, and we can move on now." She put her hand over his, and winced as both babies started jostling each other around. "Okay, okay, yes, you're glad to see daddy," she spoke to her abdomen, "but that's no reason to beat poor mummy up."

He smiled and leaned in to kiss her belly. "Be good in there, my lovely girls," he said firmly. It was the first time since they'd told them at the hospital that he'd acknowledged that he was having twin daughters. At the time, he'd made a sarcastic comment about being outnumbered and outmanned at the start. But now, he seemed to have warmed up to the idea.

"Are you okay with them being girls?" Ruth asked suddenly.

"Of course," he replied. "Can't change that, can we?"

"But – I would've liked to see you with a son…"

"I have a son," Harry replied, sighing. "And he and Beth might have another child, so maybe I'll get a grandson sometime – I'm not so much of a misogynist that I care whether or not the balance between boys and girls in my children is equal. I'm meant to have a house full of lovely women, and thus, I shall." He gave her a cheeky grin. "But none more lovely than you, Ruth."

"Oh, you daft old sod," she sighed. There was a smile on her lips as he leaned over and kissed her. "Harry, do you wonder what would ever have happened if I'd said no to marrying you?" she asked. "Would we have gotten it together and been so happy as we are now?"

"No," he said with certainty. "Because we've been through too much together. Our bond is strong because we've loved each other so intensely, and we've held each other up. And that started the day you trusted me enough to marry me."

"You do have a rather large… pension," she teased.

"Oh, I see how you are," he chuckled. "You only miss me for the money." His fingers danced over her abdomen, almost tickling her, then moved lower.

"Harry," she breathed, "Zoe is just out in the other room –"

"And she's sound asleep," he pointed out. "And we're in New York, just like you've always wanted." Harry smiled a little and said, "We can be a little selfish and self-indulgent, can't we? Feels like weeks since we've made love."

"It's only been a week," she muttered. Truth was, her hormones had her practically humming with desire with just that little bit of touching. She didn't like him knowing how difficult it was, however, to pretend to be indifferent.

"A week is far too long," he wheedled, kissing her belly.

"Harry Pearce, what am I to do with you?" she sighed.

"Love me?" he said hopefully. "I came all this way just to see you, just to bring you home…"

"You did," she acknowledged.

"And I've been taking smashing care of our girl," he reminded her.

"And you want to be repaid in kind?" she asked, biting her lower lip.

"Oh no," he said, his voice low and earnest. "I want to take smashing care of you."

It was a good thing she was laid down, or her knees would've gone wobbly and she'd have ended up on the floor. "Oh," she squeaked. His thumbs fiddled with the elastic of her sleep pants, then he undid the tie and tugged them gently down her hips. "Harry, are you – oh – oh…" His lips merely caressed the flesh he was exposing, not answering her.

Any other protests she might have been willing to lodge floated away completely out of mind. She whimpered and stroked his hair, causing him to glance up at her. She smiled a little and he continued his gentle ministrations, kissing, licking, touching her skin. "You always taste so good," he exhaled, toying with the edge of her knickers.

"Go ahead," she breathed, lifting her hips a little so he could rid her of her underwear and sleep pants. His eyes lit up and he smirked a little upon seeing his prize. "You look like the cat that got the cream –"

"I'm the cat that's got more than enough cream to manage," he growled softly, nibbling his way up her leg from knee to upper thigh. When he parted her legs and began to creep higher, she felt like her body was on fire – everything was so good, so intense, it felt like she was going to lose her mind.

By the time he actually got around to engaging that tongue of his, she was writhing and moaning beneath his touch. "Harry, please," she begged. He didn't actually need the invitation, as he proved moments later, but she still wanted to give it. She felt feverish with the amount of heat he was generating in her, but she shivered and gooseflesh rose all over her body. His hands caressed her bottom, tilting her up for a better angle, and she saw stars as she came. "Oh," she whimpered.

"Any objections to being on top?" Harry asked with a smirk as he rose up just enough to see over her belly.

"Dear god, no," she breathed, trying to will her heart to slow down its frantic hammering.

"Good," he said, pulling away and rolling over onto his back. She eyed him up, smiling when she realized that he was just as aroused as she was. He'd lost weight since the Albany fiasco, some of the pudge around his middle, and she found that she missed it a bit. His shoulder looked unnatural, the muscles and tendons too tight for it to really relax, but it had given him extra definition in his chest and arms to carry Zoe around as much as he did. He looked older, more tired, than he had in ages, but she loved him despite everything. They'd been through too much together.

She smiled and said, "Are you going to get out of those trunks or what?"

"You're not going to take them off yourself?" he asked.

"Harry Pearce, I'm as fat as a house. If I can't tie my trainers, how the bloody hell am I going to take off your trunks?" she shot back scathingly.

He pouted a little, then thrashed about a bit, getting his underwear down his legs without actually getting up. "Fine, there, you happy now?" Harry grunted. "And you're not fat. You're growing two beautiful little girls in there – this is how you're meant to look."

She sighed and looked down at herself. "Bloody hell," she muttered, taking off her night shirt and tossing it off the bed. "Harry… I –" She fell silent, not sure how to tell him how insecure her body changes made her. He'd been so understanding when she was pregnant with Zoe, but this was on a completely different scale.

"Ruth," he said softly, reaching for her, but she stayed just outside his reach. "You are beautiful, sexy, beguiling… and if any man other than me tells you that, I fully expect you to shoot them. I don't care what you look like, though, because the most beautiful part of you is your heart – and that's all mine, isn't it?"

"That's very presumptuous of you," she whispered. "Thinking that I'd shoot a potential suitor, I mean."

"Ah, yes, well… you're mine, aren't you?" His voice was teasing, but she heard the hidden worry in his tone. He was properly insecure as she was, but hers was physical and his was emotional.

"I am yours," she whispered, confirming what they both already knew. "I have been for ages. Maybe since that first day when you laughed at that stupid joke."

His face lit up, then. "I fell in love with you the moment you burst through the door, dropping your files left and right," he admitted.

She blushed and said, "I… Harry… I…"

"Ruth, tell me what you want," he said softly. "Tell me what you need."

"I need you," she whispered. "You're so incredibly sweet and romantic and cuddly and everything, but right now, if I don't have you inside me and touching me, I'm going to go mad."

"Oh, good – I thought it would be something like trauma from being abducted at gunpoint or something like that, not something I can control," he teased, giving her a kiss.

She didn't know if she loved his cheek or if she wanted to slap him. But as soon as he was deep inside her and moving, she realized she didn't really care.

* * *

"Graham," Ruth called, "I'm going in to the office. I won't be long."

"Okay," he shouted back. "I'll make lunch."

Beth appeared at the top of the stairs. "I'll make sure he doesn't make anything you'll hate," she promised. "Say hello to Her Majesty for me if you see her."

Ruth nodded and got her trenchcoat on. It was a grey and drizzly day and she didn't feel much like spoiling her blouse with the rain. She was still in the middle of enforced leave, but she needed to do this. She needed to take back her life.

Once she was inside the Palace, everything seemed so much easier. She went to her office and passed Agnes, smiling as she did. The young woman was poised to call someone – probably Sir Richard – but Ruth waved her down. "I'm only here for a few minutes," Ruth explained. "I need to pack my things."

Agnes gaped at her, eyes wide and mouth agog. "What do you mean, Ruth?"

"I'm resigning today," Ruth said with a small smile. "I need to take my things home because I shan't be back."

"Whoa, wait – what?"

"I'm resigning," Ruth repeated, beginning to pack her personal belongings. "Because I can't do this anymore. I was rubbish at this job anyway." She smiled a little, then added, "Besides, I don't want to miss anymore of my kids' and granddaughter's lives. I'm being selfish, for once in my life."

"Does Sir Richard know?" Agnes stammered.

"No," Ruth said. "Not yet. My last official act as your boss is to ask you to take these boxes down to my car, please." She finished packing and smiled a little. "I've never thought it would be so easy to quit something."

"I can't believe you're doing it," Agnes confessed. "You're so good at this job – and the Queen likes you so much. Why – how – what will you do now?"

Ruth smiled. "Well, my step-son is making lunch," she said, "so I'll go home and eat, and then I'll probably play with Zoe until her naptime… and then I'll cuddle with her and try to decide what to cook for dinner and consequently decide to order in Thai or Vietnamese." She laughed at the look on her PA's face. "Seriously, life will be elegant and simple again," she murmured pensively.

"Have you told Sir Harry?"

Ruth's smile faded. "No," she replied. "But he'll find out soon enough."

"Will he be cross?"

"No," Ruth said with conviction, "I don't think he will be."

"How do you know?"

Ruth smiled. "I just do. Now, could you get those down to my car while I tell Sir Richard the bad news?"

* * *

Richard actually took the news better than she thought he would; he understood her personal conflict and appreciated that she'd lasted so long in the face of everything. Though, he was a little disappointed that she was willing to just give notice and walk, it seemed. She didn't care, though. She wanted to leave.

She was very glad to head home and eat lunch. The rest of the day was spent playing with Zoe, cuddling Zoe and Sophia, and reading. She was quite glad she had nowhere to be, no urgent matter to attend to, and no more madness nipping at her heels.

"Dahhhdeee!" Zoe shrieked with glee when Harry got home. "Mummah, dahdee!"

Ruth got up carefully and followed her daughter into the entryway, where Harry had scooped her up and cuddled her tight. "I ordered dinner already," Ruth said with a small smile. "It should be here in a few minutes."

"Oh, good – what did you pick?"

"Vietnamese, since you wanted pho so badly when we were in New York," she said with a smile.

"Have I told you yet today that I love you desperately?" he asked.

"No, but hold that thought," she replied as she went off in search of her ringing mobile. "Yes, hello, Ruth Pearce…"

"I will be at your home in ten minutes," the Queen said. "Please be ready."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Ruth said, and the call was terminated. This didn't bode well. Sir Richard obviously had passed on the message about her resignation and the Queen was now displeased. And she was going to have to explain to Harry what was going on. Dear god, she had a headache all of a sudden.

"What's all that about?" Harry asked. The doorbell rang, and he went to gather the food delivery. By the time he came back with steaming bags of food, Ruth's hands were shaking and she felt rather unsteady. "Ruth? Sweetheart, what's wrong?"

"The Queen is coming," she said quickly. "Because I tendered Sir Richard my resignation today. She'll be here in a few minutes and I'm… shit, Harry, I can't. Not anymore. I can't do it. I can't do the job."

"Ruth, stop," he said. "I can barely understand you when you cry and talk like this." He took her hands and held them gently in his own, trying to get her to focus, but she was upset and panicking, and having absolutely none of that. The doorbell rang and he was somewhat relieved when Beth came downstairs with Sophia in her arms to answer it.

"Bloody hell, Harry – it's the Queen," Beth called from the entryway.

Ruth's tears choked her anew and she broke free of Harry's grip, retreating to the farthest corner of the kitchen. She couldn't face the woman who had been so kind – so grateful – when she felt like all she'd managed to do was betray that confidence and throw it all back in her face.

It seemed a long time, but it could only have been a few minutes before Ruth's tears subsided and she turned to face her mistress. The Queen was sitting at the dinette with Zoe propped up on her knees, smiling down at the little girl. "Your mum is right to want to spend more time with you, sweet girl," the Queen said cheerfully. "Though I wish she'd come to me with her resignation instead of Sir Richard."

"I didn't want you to be disappointed in me," Ruth said quietly. "Any more so than you were when Dolby was attempting to frame me and call me a traitor to the Crown. I'd like to think that we've become… friends. Your condemnation, Majesty, is not something I could live with."

Zoe was chewing on her fingers and generally being her cute self. Ruth hoped that her daughter would soften the blow, or at least deflate the hammer a bit.

"I admit to being a bit… disappointed to see you leave," the Queen admitted. "But your reasons are sound. I should like to think that we will remain… friends."

Harry piped up from the doorway. "I will take care of her, Your Majesty," he said pointedly. "After all, I'll be taking my retirement soon."

"I have not approved that," the Queen said sharply. Zoe looked up at her father with a bit of alarm because the nice lady had shouted.

"I… really don't care," Harry replied. "I've spent too many years looking down the barrel of a gun, Majesty, and I want to enjoy my golden years with my family."

The Queen huffed a little, then said, "Yes, well… I suppose thirty years or more of service will be sufficient."

Harry's lips twitched slightly, then he said, "Would you like to join us for dinner, Majesty? I think Ruth bought everything on the menu from the Vietnamese restaurant down the way –"

Ruth bit back a laugh as Zoe looked at him hopefully and said, "Damn pho! Me damn pho, dahdee!"

Harry blanched, then sputtered a bit. "You were supposed to be asleep when daddy said that," he scolded. The little girl smiled at him winningly, though, and his stunned frown disappeared. "You're too clever for your own good, Zoe. Come here and I'll get you some supper." The little girl squirmed to be let down and she followed her daddy into the dining room.

"You and Harry certainly make cute, chubby children," the Queen commented dryly.

Ruth smiled. "She overheard Harry say that he really wanted some 'good damn pho' while we were in New York. She adores her father, so… yes. A touch of awkwardness, there."

"I shan't stay for your meal," the Queen said. "But I will extend a dinner invitation to the Palace next Thursday. My grandson has been lauding your praises ever since the Inspection, and I know he'd love to see you again."

Ruth laughed. "My Harry will be rather jealous, I should think."

"Serves him bloody right for intending to retire without my approval," she huffed in reply. "Enjoy your evening."

Ruth nodded and waited for her to leave, then went into the dining room, where Graham was spoon-feeding Zoe pho broth and smiling at the baby's excited reaction to the flavor. "Is that good, sissy?" he asked.

She felt more content in the span of a moment, looking over her family as they sat down for dinner, than she had ever felt before. Her heart swelled with love, and she knew she had done the right thing. Finally, she had gotten it right.

END PART THIRTY-FOUR


	35. Chapter 35

Thirty-five:  
First Thing's First…

Zoe was fascinated by the Christmas tree in the corner of the sitting room. All of the adults had been trying to keep her from it since they'd put it up and decorated it, but she was attracted to the shiny things and the bits and baubles like a bee to pollen. Harry and Graham watched her carry Beary over to the tree and then she plopped down on the floor and stared, transfixed, at one very lovely ornament. She reached out to touch it, and Harry said, "Ah ah ah, Zoe – look, don't touch. That's mummy's and you don't want to break it."

It was an old, heavy cross cast in sterling silver that her father had passed down. It was one of the few reminders she had of him, and Harry knew that it was bloody well important that Zoe's curious nature not get it placed in peril. Ruth would kill him in his sleep and no one would be the wiser.

Zoe went back to looking, and Graham laughed. "Did I ever just sit and stare at the tree like that when I was little?"

"No," Harry said. "But you did more than your fair share of toppling the tree because you wanted the star on top. We stopped putting the star on till Christmas morning." It didn't mean much, because Graham had only been two or three when he and Jane had gotten divorced, but… it was the little things, now. The shared memories of happier times got them through. "Is Catherine coming over for Christmas dinner? Ruth asked earlier and I forgot to ask you."

"Yeah – mum's gone up to her husband's family's celebration, so she's really got nowhere to go but here," Graham replied.

"Well, Malcolm is coming over," Harry said, "so it'll be a right family party, then. Good thing all the food is heat and eat, or Ruth and I would be in deep trouble. I don't think either of us have cooked a goose. Or a turkey. We might blow up the bloody block."

Graham laughed and snuggled Sophia. The little baby looked up at him with wide eyes and cooed happily, waving her little arms. Harry had to admit that his son was a much better father than he had been the first two times. Everything Graham did was about Beth and Sophia's happiness, and happy they seemed to be.

"Good thing we haven't put the gifts under the tree," Graham said off-handedly. "You know Zoe would be opening them all."

Harry laughed and nodded. "She's just like her mum," he replied. "Magpies, always after the shiny things. I've lost more ties… and cufflinks… and buttons."

"Buttons aren't shiny," Graham pointed out.

"Ah, no, but what lies beneath them apparently is," Harry joked, trying not to be crass.

"How is it that you're more sexually active than I am?" Graham asked with an equal mix of annoyance and awe in his tone.

Harry smirked a little. "Hormones," he said with a small smile. He'd already made arrangements for a week after Ruth's due date to get a vasectomy – at her request. She was eight months and three weeks pregnant now, and she had been adamant that she was not going to have another baby. She was going to have her tubes tied after the delivery – or during if the babies were stubborn and had to be removed by caesarean section – and then they would be content with the hope that no accidents happened before she went into menopause. Three girls were enough.

"Must be some bloody good hormones," Graham muttered.

Zoe finally got bored with the Christmas tree and came running over and climbed up into Harry's lap without waiting for him to help her. "Hi," she chirped, smiling widely.

"Hello, Zoe," Harry said with a smile. "Are you excited to go see mummy sing tonight?" he asked. One of the few things Ruth had actually been looking forward to was her choir's performance on Christmas Eve at midnight mass.

"Mummah," Zoe said and nodded. Her vocabulary was still small, but Harry didn't push it too much. Ruth worried that she wasn't developing properly, but they'd been assured that when babies walked early, their talking sometimes suffered, and vice versa. It was natural. But what words Zoe did know, she used liberally and she sometimes babbled in French that she'd overheard her parents using. She was bright: she'd figure it out.

"Yes, mummy's going to sing tonight," Harry said cheerfully. "Which is why I've made you nap all day today: so you can see mummy sing."

"Good plan, dad," Graham snorted. "I'm sure Ruth will appreciate it when we get home at two and Zoe doesn't go down."

Harry grinned at his son. "It's quite all right; I'll stay up with her."

Zoe played with her father's tie, and Harry smiled down at her. She looked quite smart and pretty in her dark green velvet dress – Ruth's holiday choice, very traditional. The baby's hair was wildly curly and growing out so it stuck out in every direction imaginable, but he refused to let Ruth have her way and get it cut back to make it more manageable. Zoe didn't mind and she was happy, so that's what he'd based his decision on – his daughter's smiley, amiable nature that neither he nor Ruth seemed to possess.

Beth came downstairs first, looking lovely in pinstriped slacks, heeled boots, and a nice black jumper. She looked tired, but he supposed it was because Sophia had only just started sleeping through the night and she hadn't caught back up on her rest yet. "Ruth will be down in a minute," she said.

"She shouldn't be taking the stairs," Harry grunted. "She can't even see her feet."

"Oh, thanks for that," Ruth said sarcastically as she came into the room. His jaw nearly dropped; his pants got extremely tight quickly and it took him a moment – or longer, really – to regain control. She was wrapped up in an empire-waisted dress in white and gold brocade, long in the skirt and low in the neckline, showing off the stunning necklace of gold beads and pearls that he'd given her for her last birthday. It draped over her belly and trailed off to a knot and a loop down around her hips. Her hair was swept back at the sides and her makeup was neutral, so as not to spoil the effect of the dress. She was so beautiful and he fell in love with her all over again in that moment. "Harry, close your mouth and stop staring," she scolded. "We need to leave or I'll be late."

He got up with Zoe in his arms and moved to kiss his wife. "You look amazing," he said very softly. "Far more beautiful than you'll ever give yourself credit for."

Zoe piped up and said, "Mummah piddy." She was toying with the beads and pearls of Ruth's necklace and smiling widely. She leaned over and gave her mother a kiss.

"Oh, thank you, darling," Ruth exhaled, kissing the baby and smoothing her riotous hair with her fingertips. "You look quite pretty as well, my love. Did you and daddy pick that dress?" Zoe nodded and grinned at her. "Harry, I wish you'd let me cut her hair – it's everywhere."

He shook his head and replied, "We'll have that conversation later."

"Yes," Ruth agreed, giving Zoe another kiss. "Now, love," she said, addressing the tiny girl, "you have to be very good for daddy and sit still and not cry. Can you do that for mummy?" Zoe nodded, her smile vanishing, because she seemed to sense the importance Ruth was putting on it.

"I've got some coloring and a tablet with movies and headphones," Harry said. "If she gets bored, there is plenty for her to do."

Ruth smiled and gave him a kiss. "What would I do without you, Harry?"

"Be very lonely, I should think," he shot back.

* * *

Ruth's solo went without a hitch, and she felt relieved that she hadn't had a contraction during that time. She'd been fighting the inevitable all day; she knew they weren't Braxton-Hicks, but she'd committed to the choir that she would do the solo and, short of actually giving birth on the floor in the church, she was bloody well going to do what she was meant to do. The contractions were low and steady, about thirty minutes apart now. Nothing overwhelming, and she'd be damned if she was going to tell Harry till they were ten minutes apart.

After mass, they went home, Zoe asleep in the back of the sedan as they drove along. It was surprisingly busy on the streets for half past two, and she supposed it was because of church letting out and people going round to their families for the holiday.

"You were wonderful," Harry said softly. "You always are."

"I was a little flat," she replied, "but I don't think anyone noticed."

"I certainly didn't," he replied. "I was absolutely mesmerized by you. I always am."

"Good thing we're married or people would talk," she teased gently. She felt another contraction and just fell silent, removing herself from the conversation and the car, thinking about a beautiful beach that she'd fallen in love with on the coast of Italy – she'd have to take Harry and the kids when they were older.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

She nodded and murmured, "Just tired. And Lizzie and Fiona are moving about a lot tonight." It was a lie – they'd barely moved since they contractions had started, but every so often, she felt a little movement and it reassured her that they were still okay.

"You've done well so far," Harry said, "keeping them in as long as this."

"Yeah, I dread the day they decide to be born," she laughed lightly. "It'll be chaos." She neglected to mention that it would probably be in the next 24 hours, because that would only make him panic and drive straight to the hospital.

Beth and Graham had left them at the church to drive round to pick up Catherine, and Ruth found herself excited at the thought of a family Christmas. The year before, it had just been a quiet dinner and a few gifts exchanged… but that was because they were all exhausted from taking care of each other and Zoe. And the realm, for what it was worth.

But now… it was going to be fun, intimate in a way that last year's Christmas hadn't been. They'd be able to see Zoe's excitement about opening Father Christmas's gifts, they'd be able to celebrate with the ones they loved most. And, if the twins played according to the rules, they mightn't be born till Boxing Day – she really didn't want her children to be born on Christmas, though she might not have a say in it.

"You're lost in your own world," Harry said as he stopped the car in the drive.

She blinked at him and murmured tiredly, "I just was thinking that it'll be nice to have a family Christmas for once."

He smiled and said, "Yes, it shall be."

She rubbed her belly and was rewarded with a half-hearted kick. "We still need to put the gifts beneath the tree –"

"You need to go to bed," Harry said. "You're exhausted." He held her hand for a long time, then said, "Look, it's starting to snow. Let's go inside before it gets bad." He was about to say something else when the Range Rover turned into the drive and pulled up alongside. Catherine burst out of it, and he said, "Or we can say hello to Catherine and get her situated on the couch for the night first."

"Sounds like a good idea," Ruth agreed with him. Catherine was exuberant and full of life and it might help to inject a bit of life into the rest of the night, despite Ruth being exhausted and in mild pain. He got out of the car and came round to help her, then once she was on her feet, he retrieved the baby's bag and Zoe from the back seat. To her credit, Zoe didn't wake up or even really move a muscle.

"Oh my goodness, she's gotten so big!" Catherine exclaimed. "And look at her hair –"

"I keep trying to get your father to let me cut it," Ruth sighed.

"Don't you dare! It's absolutely darling," Catherine said. "My hair was never like that – it was stick straight and mum chopped it off short so she wouldn't have to deal with plaiting and things. Zoe's hair is lovely."

"We should go inside," Harry said. "I've got to get Zoe ready for bed, and then we have presents to put beneath the tree."

Ruth smiled at the way he was taking charge. She'd used to have been like that, but he'd taken over quite well since she'd gotten too big to lift Zoe or, well, to even see her feet as she shuffled around the house. She was ever so glad she'd resigned because she would have been absolutely miserable working.

Everyone tramped inside and hung up their coats. Ruth struggled a bit with hers, but Catherine stepped in and helped. "Gosh, you look like you're about ready to pop," Catherine commented.

"I feel like I'm about ready," Ruth admitted as Harry carried Zoe upstairs, and Graham and Beth disappeared with Sophia. "Your sisters are making it very hard to move. I'm surprised I was able to get enough air to sing properly tonight."

"Have you and Dad chosen names yet?" Catherine asked, smiling.

"Elizabeth and Fiona, after our mums," Ruth said softly. "It seems fitting."

"It's lovely," Catherine agreed. "I think it's wonderful, really –"

"You're much happier now than when you found out your father and I were married and had Zoe," Ruth commented.

"Yes, well… I've had time to get used to it. And you're good for him."

Ruth sighed softly and said, "God, I'm so bloody over being pregnant. I'm exhausted and I need to use the loo. So off to bed with me." She started for the stairs and took them very slowly, one step at a time.

The bedroom was chilly, so she got into her warmest nightgown and got under the covers as fast as she could manage. She only woke up when Harry joined her, and within minutes, she was back asleep.

* * *

Zoe was, of course, more entranced with the wrappings of her presents than the actual gifts. Harry was pleased as punch when she put a ribbon on her head and squealed, "Piddy, dahdee!"

"Yes, you are," he agreed. "Do you like the dolly Catie gave you, Zoe?"

She looked at him, confused, then abandoned the ribbon for the doll that had just come out of the box. "Dowwy," she said. "Caee. Dowwy." She held it up and beamed at her big sister. Ruth just smiled at Harry and watched them.

He could tell something was wrong – Ruth had been stand-offish all morning thus far, and she was extremely restless. She'd been tapping on her leg for ages, and kept looking at her watch when she thought he wasn't watching.

"Here, dad, pass this to Ruth," Catherine said, tossing something onto his lap. He passed it down the couch to his wife.

Ruth looked at the label and smiled. "It's for the twins," she said. "Oh, Catherine, you shouldn't have –"

"It's not much, but even they deserve a bit of Christmas," Catherine replied cheerfully.

Inside the box were two outfits, one in purple, and one in pink, but otherwise, they were alike. "Oh, they're lovely – we can use them for their coming-home outfits and take pictures," Ruth promised. "Thank you, Catherine."

Zoe carried her ribbon and her new dolly over to Catherine and said, "Up, Caee." Catherine picked her up and sat her on her knees. "Dowwy," the baby said, holding up the doll.

"Do you like your dolly?" Catherine asked. Zoe's reply was a toothy smile.

"More presents," Graham rumbled from the other sofa. Catherine chucked a box at his face, and he caught it. "Oh, it's from mum," he muttered. He opened it and found a coffee mug inside that said, "World's Greatest Dad". It was disappointing to him, Harry could tell, but the young man wasn't going to say a word. Beth's fingers curled around his son's hand and they both looked over at Sophia in her bouncer.

"Well," Harry said, getting up, "I have a present for you both." He got up and went to the tree, taking down an envelope from the branches. He gave it to Beth, not his son, and sat back down.

Beth opened it and gasped. "Harry, really?"

"You deserve a honeymoon," he said mildly. He and Ruth had planned to give them a proper trip away when Sophia and the twins were both a little older, so they'd planned it for November upcoming. Beth and Graham were going to Paris and the south of France – everything was paid for but the food and touristy things they might want to do if they ever got round to getting out of bed.

"Dad, thank you," Graham said. "I – I don't know what to say."

Ruth smiled. "It was my idea," she teased. "Just say thank you and enjoy yourselves." Her smiled faded abruptly and she looked at her watch again. Harry was getting worried, but he didn't dare say anything.

"Ruth, this is for you," Graham said, passing over a gift. Harry watched her take a deep breath, then take the gift and unwrap it quickly. It was a book – he couldn't see which one – but it was very, very old. "It's a first edition," he said.

She burst into tears and said, "How did you know Jane Eyre was my favorite?"

"Dad told me," Graham said simply. "I found it at a used book market down off the lane by mum's place. I thought you'd enjoy it."

"I love it," Ruth said honestly. She suddenly gripped the book and closed her eyes, wincing. "Oh, bloody hell," she breathed. "Harry – Harry, can you get the hospital bag and… shit, I need new clothes. My waters have broken."

Catherine's eyes went wide, and so did Beth's. "Shit," Beth said. "How far apart are your contractions?"

"Six minutes now," Ruth exhaled. "I didn't want my girls born on Christmas, but they clearly have other ideas –"

Harry got up and tried not to panic. Last time, it had been on the Grid. This time, it would be safe and comfortable in the hospital, right? If they got her there in time. He helped Ruth to the downstairs half-bath and got her dried off and cleaned up and changed into some of the clean clothes she'd left in the cabinet for when she had an accident. "Is this really happening?" he asked her anxiously. "Are Lizzie and Fiona really insistent to be born today?"

"Very," Ruth grunted. He bundled her up in her coat and grabbed the bag she'd packed for the hospital. They headed to the car in silence, but he was beginning to worry already. There were too many things that could go horribly wrong.

But five hours later, he was holding a tiny girl with dark brown fuzzy hair and huge blue eyes, and she was holding a slightly larger little girl with bright blue eyes and reddish blonde whisps of hair. They'd been decided that the firstborn would be Elizabeth and the second, Fiona – so the ginger one was Lizzie and Ruth's mini-me was Fiona. Harry didn't think his heart could swell with love any more than this, but he was wrong. Ruth looked up at him and he was lost forever in the happiness of her expression.

"I never got to give you your Christmas present," Harry said softly.

"You don't have to," she murmured. "I've got these two – they're perfect, and probably better than anything you could've bought me in a shop." She gently ran her fingers over Lizzie's cheek.

"Ah, yes, well… my gift is right here, with us," he said, gesturing at himself. "It's me. Your gift is me. I've retired. No more midnight calls to save the world. No more running off in the middle of dinner to stop a bomber or a lunatic with a gun or… anything. Just you, me, and the girls."

Ruth started to cry, then, but they were happy tears. "Oh, Harry… what am I going to do with you?" she whispered.

He smiled. "Love me," he said simply. "Happy Christmas, my love."

"Happy Christmas," she whispered, sniffling a little.

END PART THIRTY-FIVE


	36. Chapter 36

Thirty-six:  
First Day of the Rest of Their Lives

"Oh, Harry, you stupid old bugger," Ruth sighed in annoyance. "You should've left that for me to carry – your knee isn't what it was…"

"Stop nagging me, woman," Harry grunted, dropping a box of tinned food on the countertop. "I'm seventy-nine, not dead. I can still do a few things, you know."

She bit the inside of her cheek to avoid reminding him what had happened the last time he'd said that. "Fine," Ruth muttered. "Did you lock up the car, then?"

"Yes."

"So, we're home now," she said softly. "And we need to unpack. But I'd rather take a nap."

He chuckled. "Getting old makes things interesting, doesn't it, my love?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "I'm the one who drove," she pointed out. "You fell asleep in the car."

After the girls had all gone their separate ways – Zoe to wander the world and take photographs, Lizzie to Aberdeen with her boyfriend to work, and Fiona to New York – they'd been too lonely in the big house in Holland Park. So they'd decided to keep it (for when they must be in town), but let Sophia and her friends use it for their bath and body start-up business, and had picked up and finally moved house to the little house in Suffolk. It had taken several trips to move the necessaries, but with help from Graham and Catherine, it had been done in a relatively short amount of time.

"Of course I fell asleep in the car," Harry grumped. "I'm bloody seventy-nine."

She leaned over and gave him a kiss. "You look good for an old man, Harry Pearce," she murmured against his lips. He'd lost weight after he'd retired, chasing their daughters, so he was definitely more physically fit than most men his age. His hair had finally gone white, though, and his eyesight had gone downhill, so he wore glasses now. But the way he looked at her still thrilled her – and they still had more than their fair share of falling into bed, ripping offending articles of clothes off of each other.

"And you look amazing, always," he said with a smirk.

"Oh please," she snorted. "No one but you gives me a second glance. You're a very attractive man, Harry, and I'm just… I'm just me." She'd managed, somehow, not to go grey aside from a few random strands, but the lines and wrinkles on her face had gotten more numerous. As she'd gotten older, it had gotten harder to lose weight, so she'd given up trying – and now had gained padding in her breasts, hips, and belly that hadn't been there before. He seemed to take it in stride, but he was blind as far as she was concerned – and she'd seen too many photos of them at royal events to feel immune to the ravages of age.

"I love you," he said, leaning in and whispering into her ear, his breath hot on her skin. "No matter what you look like, no matter what you do, I love you, Ruth. There is no one in the world like you, nor would I want there to be. And you're still mine, after all this time," he added softly, tenderly. "Mine."

"Yes," she agreed. "I am." She suppressed a shiver. "Harry…"

"Hmm?"

"Should we be this happy at our age?"

"Absolutely," he said with a smile.

* * *

Harry put the finishing touches on lunch while Ruth napped in the sitting room. He was glad he'd insisted on having the overstuffed lounging chair sent up from London because it was their favorite place to cuddle and nap together. She'd been so tired and he just wanted her to rest and to be happy.

So much had changed in their lives since he'd retired. When things weren't so urgent as terrorists blowing up Parliament Square, he'd been able to relax and enjoy his family. He'd turned out to not be a terrible failure of a father after all – it had mostly been the fault of the job and the stress and not being suited to marriage with Jane that had ruined everything before. Graham and Catherine had seen that and rebuilt their relationships with him accordingly.

Of course, spending time with Ruth was just as important as chasing after the girls. They'd take long walks, read together, cuddled up on the sofa before the fire, take cooking lessons together, go to the theatre or the opera or the Palace, and they'd just enjoy each other's company. He supposed to an outside perspective, they were staid and stodgy and boring, but behind closed doors, their simple day to day routine was full of hidden passion.

So often, she would come out of nowhere with a kiss or a suggestive look and he'd respond in kind, winding each other up until they were upstairs for the night. Then everything became about them, their needs, their wants, the desires that were still so strong for each other even after so many years of marriage. He loved her still as desperately as he'd done since she'd walked onto the Grid; she loved him in kind, but she showed it in far subtler ways such as picking up his dirty socks and putting them in the hamper because she knew he had a hard time bending over. But at night… they were free to love as they chose.

Ruth appeared in the doorway, her eyes still bleary with sleep. "That smells good," she murmured. "What's it?"

"Mozerella, tomato and basil grilled cheese," he said, "and that spinach and garlic soup you like so much."

She smiled and said, "Have I told you I love you today?"

"No, you've nagged a lot," he said, a slightly teasing lilt to his voice, but he saw a flash of pain in her eyes. "But I've been a crotchety old bugger, so maybe it was well deserved."

"Harry, thank you for making lunch," she said, sitting down at the dinette. "I don't know what came over me – I just fell asleep."

"You're tired," he replied. "Moving takes a lot out of you."

"Why didn't you take a nap, then?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I seem to have an overabundance of energy today – I took Jules out for her walk," he added, referring to their dog, "and she was having so much fun I left her in the garden to play. It was a long walk, too, but I'm not tired enough to sleep yet. And there's nothing on telly. So I made lunch."

She smiled, looking happier now just for having gotten out of London. "Well, then, I'll cook dinner," she said. "So you can take a nap this afternoon."

Harry smirked and waggled his eyebrows. "What if we both… take a nap?" he suggested.

Ruth laughed and said, "Cheeky sod. We've still got to unpack –"

"Ruth Pearce, we've got the rest of our lives to unpack," he reminded her. "And neither of us is getting any younger. I could die tomorrow, and without knowing you intimately one last time –"

"Henry James Pearce, you are shameless," she scolded, blushing a little.

"You know, I think I am," he agreed, winking.

* * *

The phone roused Ruth out of warm sleep. Warm because Harry was curled around her and they were both naked beneath the blankets. They both still enjoyed sex very much – and he'd insisted on making love after lunch… just because they could.

She pried his arm out from around her waist and rolled over to get the phone. "Hullo?" she murmured.

"Nana?"

"Oh, hello, Verity," Ruth said, yawning. "Sorry, Papa Harry and I were just taking a nap – how are you? How's Oxford?"

Graham and Beth's other daughter laughed. "Lovely, just like I thought it would be… um, can we talk a minute?"

"Sure," Ruth said, "but let me move downstairs so I don't disturb your grandfather, okay?" She got up and pulled on her dressing gown, then headed downstairs to feed the dog and the cat. "What's going on, sweetheart?"

Verity laughed nervously down the line, then said, "Well, ah, I don't know how to say this…"

"Oh no," Ruth sighed. "Are you pregnant?"

"NO! I mean, not yet – but – ah – oh, god, Nana." There was a long pause, then Verity stammered, "George asked me to marry him. And I might have said yes."

Ruth dropped the bowl of dry cat food, sending pieces flying everywhere. "BLOODY HELL, VERITY!"

"I mean, he's my best friend – we've been best friends since we were kids, right? When you and Papa Harry took me to the Palace for play dates and –" Verity was rambling now, and Ruth was in shock. "I mean, I've always been in the photos as his best friend, right? The press has always thought he was chasing other women or gay or – but it was me. It was always me, Nana." She paused, then laughed. "Bloody hell, I'm going to be the Princess of Wales. It just hit me – "

"Oh my god, Verity, your grandfather is going to have a stroke when he finds out," Ruth finally managed to say.

"Oh, no, please you tell him – I can't," Verity gasped. "He'll be so upset – I told mum and she cried. A lot."

"He's meant to marry a princess," Ruth said quietly. "Not the second daughter of an Earl… His Majesty has been grooming him to marry one of the Swedish princesses – this isn't going to go over well."

"Well, I don't care," Verity said. "It's all just politics, isn't it? I don't know why it matters. I'm a citizen, a member of the peerage – thanks to you and Papa Harry – and a member of the Church. They can't possibly have a complaint about that."

"Their complaint will be with your Papa Harry and my appointments and what we did to receive them," Ruth said softly. "I know you love George, but you must be the one to make him see sense, Verity. You can't stand between him and what's best for the country, even if – especially if – you love him." It had been the same argument she and Harry had been having for years and years during their time in the service: sacrifice to the state for security.

Verity fell very quiet and she whispered, "I thought you'd be happy for me, Nana. That I love someone so much that I'd want to get married to them –"

Ruth exhaled shakily and murmured, "I am. But you can't."

There was a long silence, then Verity said, "No, of course, you're right. Everyone's right. I can't. But it was nice to think I might – I could." She sniffled miserably, then dissolved into tears.

"Oh, sweetheart," Ruth sighed.

Harry came into the sitting room, starkers. "What's going on?" he asked. "You made enough noise to wake the dead –"

"It's Verity," Ruth said. "She's having a crisis."

Harry took the phone from her hand. "Verity, it's me," he said softly to his granddaughter. "Tell me what's wrong, sweetheart." He was silent for a few minutes, just listening. And then he turned to Ruth, scowling. "I see," he said. "Well, Verity, I say sod the lot of them. Marry George, if he makes you happy. Who cares what everyone else bloody thinks? It's down to the two of you, ultimately. You've loved each other since you were children. It's a damn long time to know someone's faults and still love them for those faults, don't you think? And if someone dares come after your grandmother and me, I'll put them in their place." He paused for a long time, then said, "Verity, love, listen to me. Listen to ME. There is no hope in putting the needs of the State before your needs. I learned that lesson the hard way; it cost me my marriage to Granny Jane, and I almost lost your dad and Aunt Catie. I almost lost Ruth more than once, and we lost two children because I was a fool and thought that I was the cog that would keep the world spinning. There is no hope without love, Verity Eloise Pearce: and you love George. It's as simple as that. So say yes. Keep the ring. Be happy with him. And sod anyone that says you're not suitable or high enough ranked or anything like that. It's all bullshit." He paused again and said, "Yes, she's listening and looking at me with disapproval. But I don't care. Everything I've said is true, Verity. Go think about it and call your mum back when you've stopped crying – and apologize for shouting at her." Another pause, then he smiled. "I love you, too, Verity. Good bye."

When he set the phone back in the cradle, he turned around and said, "Ruth, you certainly know how to screw up a good operation, you know that? Do you know how furious with me His Majesty will be if Verity said no to George? Bloody hell."

"What?" Ruth said.

Harry sighed and said, "Sit down."

"Harry, you're naked –"

"Yes, and I'm not going back upstairs just to get my dressing gown," he muttered irritably. "George has rejected out of hand every 'suitable' candidate that was presented toward him by the Palace. It came out that he's in love with our Verity but he didn't want to rock the boat and upset her any more than he already had. So His Majesty asked me to work on making her receptive to any advances George might make toward her. And he would do the same. And you almost ruined it with your talk of Swedish princesses and, bloody hell, you think we won't get strung up outside Traitor's Gate?" he said, throwing his hands up. "We want her to marry him, all right?"

Ruth just stared at him. "I hate politics," she groaned.

"So do I," Harry agreed. "But anything for our Verity, Ruth – she deserves this. She deserves to be happy, and she loves him. And our great-grandchildren will be in line for the throne, not that that matters at all, but it's a good thing. All of our children and grandchildren deserve good things and they deserve to be happy. He makes her happy."

Ruth sighed and said, "Now I feel a right fool –"

"You're nothing of the kind. You didn't know we were working an angle."

"You could've bloody told me you were interfering, you old bastard!" Her words sounded angrier than she felt, but, really, it did hurt that he'd left her out of the loop on this.

"Plausible deniability," he said. "I never thought you'd buy into all the rubbish in the papers about George wooing that Swedish girl. God knows, Verity's always out with him, but why the papers think she's just a friend, I'll never understand." He looked really grumpy for a minute, then said, "I caught them snogging once and just about had a bloody heart attack."

She giggled at the mental image, then said, "Well, I'm sure you've seen worse…"

"Yes, but MY granddaughter snogging some bloke in the corridor? I almost punched him in the teeth, till I realized who it was," he grumped. "Our babies are all growing up, aren't they?" he sighed. "And we're getting old."

"Speak for yourself," Ruth replied.

"Do they have a 'grandparents of the bride' section at weddings?" he asked with a little grin. "I might have to show up like this, stir things up a bit."

She scowled at him. "Don't you dare," she said.

"Come upstairs, Mrs. Pearce," he said firmly, "and let me take your mind off your troubles."

END PART THIRTY-SIX


	37. Chapter 37

Thirty-seven:  
First Great-grandchild

Harry did a little dance and whooped for joy. "That's amazing news!" he all but shouted into the phone. "Of course I'll let Ruth know, Your Majesty!"

Oh, it was King William calling, which meant either the baby had arrived or they were talking about the cricket again. She suppressed the urge to roll her eyes, instead staying focused on her book until Harry had finished his call.

"It's a boy," Harry announced. "William Henry George," he said cheerfully.

Ruth glanced up and smiled. "Good," she said gently.

"And they've asked us to come round and see him at hospital," he added. "Graham and Beth, Sophia, and Ben, as well."

"I should hope so, since Graham and Beth are his proper grandparents," Ruth said mildly, flipping a page. "We're just the older ones."

"Oh, come on now," Harry sighed. "You're not still cross with Wills and me for making a spook's operation out of getting George and Verity married off, are you?"

"Yes, I am," Ruth said. "I was pissed off at the wedding and I'm pissed off now, because I almost made a wreck of it, didn't I?" She frowned and lowered her gaze back to her book.

"But they're married now," Harry replied, "and quite happy, and look, a little William! I've got a photo on my phone now. He looks like… well, a frog."

"Babies sometimes do," she replied. "Yours all came out of the womb looking like people, though…"

"Oh, here's a better one," he said, lowering the phone so she could see it rather than her book. "He's –"

"He's got your pout," Ruth commented dryly. "I don't think that's going to fade from future generations, do you?"

"I don't pout," he replied, doing just that. "Are you really cross with me right now?"

"No…"

"Then will you drive us to London so we can see the little chap?" he pleaded, almost whining.

She tried very hard to keep her face neutral. "Harry, it's seven in the evening," she protested. "If we leave Ipswich now, we'll get to Kensington – I assume we're going to Kensington? – in about two hours. That makes it nine or later, and no hospital will let us in."

He pouted more. "I want to see the little fellow –"

She rolled her eyes and sighed. "Oh, fine, get your coat," she muttered. "But you have to call Sophia and tell her we'll be spending the night."

He practically jumped for joy. "Oh, Ruth, I'm so happy right now –"

"Oh, behave," she scolded with a smile. "Go pack and I'll call Louisa next door and see if she can feed the pets while we're away."

"No, seriously, I'm ever so happy –"

"You should be, after conspiring with His Majesty to bring it all about in the first place," she said.

"Well, the heir's only taken four years to get here," he grumbled.

Ruth laughed. "Harry, things don't go according to a timetable," she said. "Now go pack a bag or we'll never get on the road."

He hurried off – as fast as he could hurry – and she rolled her eyes and smiled. She'd already gotten a text from their granddaughter right after the birth and had asked if they were invited past security to see the baby. She'd known Harry would be chomping at the bit. It was all arranged, including Louisa taking care of the pets for a few days so they could take their time in the city.

Of course, she wouldn't admit it to him, but she was excited to see the baby and her granddaughter and her husband as well. She'd fielded lots of calls from Verity about pregnancy the last few months and had even made a couple of trips to London under the guise of seeing a specialist about her arthritis. Harry would be worried, but not enough so to check up on her, that way.

He appeared about ten minutes later with two bags in hand. "I just packed necessities –"

"We can always get anything else we need in town," she assured him with a smile. "Let's go, then."

"Ruth…"

"Hmm?"

"Sorry I made you upset –"

"Oh, don't worry about it," she said softly. "I'll get over it eventually."

"No, Ruth, it's not just fine – I didn't mean to upset you," Harry said, quite contritely. "I just… the baby and the excitement and I forgot."

She shook her head and replied, "Harry, he's your great-grandson, however he got here. And you'll love him dearly for being here. Don't worry about me."

He shrugged his coat on and frowned. "He's your great-grandson, too."

"Harry, just leave it," Ruth sighed. She stowed their bags in the boot of the car and said, "And don't you dare think you can change the disc player on me while we're driving. I'm the one driving miles upon miles in the dark – we'll listen to what I want."

"Bloody hell, I knew I wasn't going to get off easily," Harry grunted.

* * *

He was practically bouncing with excited glee as they headed into the hospital. Harry had found, as soon as he had several, that babies weren't all that awful. Even when they were crying and pooping and the like. It was when they got older and their hormones kicked in and they thought they were so grown up and knew everything that he took an issue with children. And this was a very important baby they were coming to see. His first great-grandchild and the heir to the Prince of Wales. It was very good to be Harry Pearce today.

Ruth kept giving him dirty looks, and he wondered if his eagerness was showing too much.

They stopped at the front desk and drew out their IDs. "Duke and Duchess of Albany, Harry and Ruth Pearce," Ruth said. "You'll find we're on the list for Verity and William Windsor."

The receptionist smiled a little and said, "Yes, ma'am – there are other members of the family present at the moment: The Earl and Countess of Clarence and the Lord and Lady Pearce. I'll have one of the security officers escort you upstairs."

"Thank you," Ruth said with a smile. "My poor husband here, is about to go mad from the waiting to see the little fellow. He's been twitching since we left the house."

"I have not been twitching!" Harry exclaimed indignantly. "Well, maybe I was when you were blasting Black Sabbath to stay awake…"

Ruth rolled her eyes and said, "Harry… we're in public."

He smirked over at the receptionist. "Then we have a witness to say that we had a disagreement." When Ruth made to retort, he pulled her close and gave her a kiss. "Now, let's wait patiently for one of the MI-5 whelps to come and take us to our future leader."

"You? Patient?" she laughed, giving him another kiss. "You haven't a patient bone in your body, Harry."

The receptionist laughed and dialed the Command Center. "Yes, the Duke and Duchess of Albany are here to see the Windsors," she said. "Yes. Thank you." She smiled over and said, "They'll be sending an officer in a moment."

Harry grunted. "I remember when I used to assign such mundane duties –"

Ruth nudged him. "Shh, you. Official Secrets Act," she reminded him.

"It's called something else, now," he said with a frown. "I can't remember what. When did we get old, Ruth?"

"Speak for yourself," she replied sweetly. "I'm still young and spry."

"Yes, well… yes." Harry had the good grace to blush, feeling his ears grow as hot as his cheeks. He was remembering a couple of days before when he'd been able to perform without medicine. They'd had a lovely time, and yes, Ruth was still spry despite her arthritic hip and lower spine.

"Your Graces?" came a hesitant female voice. "I'm Nancy Gordon, and I'm your escort."

"Bloody hell, you're a child," Harry scoffed.

"Henry James Pearce!" Ruth exclaimed.

Nancy hid a smile. "Ma'am, it's all right – Dimitri warned me that Sir Harry is…"

"A crotchety old sod?" Harry snapped.

"Challenging," the young woman corrected him.

Ruth hid her snicker behind her hand but couldn't erase the mirth from her eyes. Harry scowled at the young woman and glared at her – however, he must have gone soft because she was slightly less than intimidated. "Bloody hell," he grunted. "The world's run by puppies now."

Ruth smiled and took his arm protectively in hers, holding his hand, like they'd done so many times over the years. "Yes," she agreed mildly, "but this puppy is about to take you to meet your new grandson. So please play nicely."

He growled a little, but then he decided to play nice. After all, he had a beautiful woman on his arm and a new baby to dote upon. They walked with Nancy, taking the elevator and several corridors, before arriving at the private suite.

Sophia and James were waiting outside, and James grinned brightly at them. He was the baby of Graham's kids – an accident when Sophia had been fourteen and Verity twelve. He was only thirteen now, but he was just as excited as anyone else. "Papa Harry, I've got a nephew," James announced proudly. Sophia gave her grandparents a suffering look and rolled her eyes. "Isn't it exciting?"

Ruth laughed. "It is quite so," she agreed. "Did you do your homework?"

James frowned. "Maybe…"

Harry laughed. "You should maybe do that when you get home," he advised. "Your mother is quite frightening when homework doesn't get finished."

"She is," Sophia added ominously.

James gulped, having never actually experienced his mum in a bad temper. "I will," he promised.

Nancy smiled a little and side-stepped them to announce their presence to the room's occupants.

George came out into the corridor with a smile as he moved to embrace Ruth and shake Harry's hand. "I'm glad you both could make it," he said. "Dad said he rang but that you might not be here till morning."

"Harry couldn't wait," Ruth replied sweetly.

Harry said, "And the kill joy here took her bloody sweet time on the motorway."

"Either way, I'm glad you're here and I know Vey will be, too," George said. "Do you want to come in and meet Billy? Beth's monopolizing him at the moment."

"Of course she is," Harry groused.

"You are tired and grumpy," Ruth accused, "and I have half a mind to take you home and put you to bed so you don't rub off on young Billy."

George laughed. "Harry, why don't you come in first?" he invited. "I'm sure Beth will give up my son willingly."

"Don't be so sure about that," Beth called from inside the suite.

Ruth laughed and said, "So, how does it feel to be a grandmum?"

"It's bloody terrifying," Beth admitted. "I don't know how you did it and raise your own at the same time."

Harry pulled Ruth through the door and smiled at his family. Verity was propped up in bed, looking very tired, and she was watching her mother like a hawk. Graham was sitting in the chair by his daughter's bedside, holding up a handful of cards, as they were in the middle of a game. Verity just wasn't paying much attention. And Beth was cradling a tiny bundle in a blue blanket.

George gently took Billy from Beth's embrace and Verity visibly relaxed, going back to her card game with her father. George smiled down at the baby and said, "It's time to meet your Papa Harry and Nana Ruth," he said softly. "I know you've met a lot of people today, but these two are very important people, Billy. They're heroes, and when you're older, you'll understand why."

"We're not heroes," Ruth contradicted softly. "We're just Nana and Papa to this little one." She smiled and tried to get a glimpse of the baby without moving.

Harry shook her off gently and George passed the sleeping baby into the crook of his right arm. "Well, hello," he said softly. "Your mum is going to tell you all kinds of stories about me, but you have to make up your own mind, little chap." The baby yawned and opened one eye. "Oh, there you are – hello, Billy. I'm your Papa Harry." He held the tiny boy up so Ruth could see him.

"He's not so frog-like as that first picture Wills sent over," Ruth laughed heartily. The baby opened both eyes then, and turned his head to stare at her with a furrowed brow. "He does look a bit like you, though," she teased her husband.

"I should hope so," Harry scoffed. "He looks like he'll be a fine man, a good man – a good prince." The baby had so little hair that he was bald, and what hair he did have was a white-blonde shade. He had the Pearce full lips and chubby, jowly cheeks, but he had the Windsor nose and a birthmark rising up his arm in uneven splotches. "You will, won't you?" he said softly. The baby yawned in reply. He turned to Ruth. "My love, will you take him?" He didn't want to tell her that he was afraid he might lose his grip.

"Of course," Ruth said, gently lifting Billy from Harry's grasp. "Hello," she breathed, smiling. The baby looked up at her and his confused face suddenly smoothed away and he just watched her. "All the stories about Papa Harry are true," she said, glancing up at Harry with a teasing smile. "He just doesn't want you to be overwhelmed."

Harry pouted; he knew he had done by the way her eyes lit up in that 'ahaha, you old bastard, I caught you out!' way. "Yes, well, maybe some of my exploits aren't appropriate for small ears," he pointed out. "Most of them."

Ruth smiled down at Billy and said, "Remind me sometime to tell you about how Papa Harry broke the doorframe trying to bring in a Christmas tree that was entirely too big to fit in our sitting room, all because Auntie Zoe had to have the nicest tree."

Harry bit back a laugh and said, "Ah, yes, that we can tell…"

"And how he couldn't figure out how to build Auntie Fi's bike and put the handlebar on backwards and couldn't make it right," she added. "And how he used to take your aunties sledding and wound up in hospital with a broken leg."

He laughed. "And there are plenty more disastrous stories where those came from," he agreed.

Ruth bent down and kissed Billy. He squeaked in something akin to surprise, Harry thought. She smiled down at the baby. "And there's always the story about how much Papa Harry loves me. He always has done – ever since we met, little one," she whispered. "Someone will tell you that when you're older, though, and we're both gone. Someone will tell you that you'll find your great love like we did." She glanced over at Harry with tears in her eyes and his heart turned over in his chest. "I was never cross with you earlier, Harry – I was playacting."

He leaned in and gave her a kiss. "I know," he assured her. "I was only apologizing in case you weren't and I'd read everything terribly wrong."

Beth came over and said, "Who'd have thought that we'd be holding the heir to the Throne? If you'd asked me five years ago, I'd have called you crazy."

Harry laughed. "You're many things, Beth Bailey," he said, "but crazy is not one of them."

They stayed a while longer, till Billy needed feeding, then they all retreated, save for George. Harry and Ruth went back to their house in Holland Park, following behind Sophia's car. When they pulled into the drive and alit from the cars, Sophia said, "We've been making soap the last couple of days – about 10 stone's worth – so it's a bit of a mess, and I apologize ahead of time…"

"No, it's all right," Ruth assured her. "We're here to sleep and shower and rest between outings. I hope we won't be in your way."

"No, never," Sophia assured them with a smile. "It's your house, after all."

As soon as she'd opened the door, a myriad of smells drifted out. Harry breathed deeply and smiled. "Whatever soap you're making, it's lovely," he said.

"You only think that because it's based on the soap you used to use when I was small," Sophia said with a grin. "I'll run upstairs and turn the bed down, okay? Help yourselves to some wine or whatever's in the fridge."

Ruth and Harry settled at the dinette in the kitchen and took a moment to just be silent. It was broken when Harry said, "I don't feel old today."

She smiled over at him and grabbed his hand. "Me either," she agreed.

END PART THIRTY-SEVEN


	38. Chapter 38

Author's note: There are only going to be two more chapters after this one, y'all. So... yeah.

* * *

Thirty-eight:  
First Time Alone

Ruth came in, grocer bags in her arms and other bags, full of toiletries and supplies they'd run out of, dangling from her fingers. "I thought we might have that mushroom-stuffed pork loin you love so much tonight," she called out. "And some rice and veg – and I bought wine."

The house was quiet: too quiet. Maybe he was out walking the dog. She began putting away the groceries and tidying the kitchen from breakfast – something Harry hadn't done. She stopped and frowned, thinking that was odd. He usually did it when she was out doing the errands. Today had been shopping and paying on a few bills in Ipswich. Nothing major, just a couple of hours gone.

"Harry? Love?" she called.

She heard the dog whine from the sitting room, and she set the dishes in the sink before she headed in there. Crowley (for Harry had read Good Omens and had a sense of humor about the giant bull mastiff he'd rescued from a shelter) was lying at Harry's feet, whining and whining. Ruth immediately knew something was wrong – Harry had a grey pallor and wasn't breathing. When she touched him, his skin was cool, and she found no pulse. It must have happened right after she'd left.

Crowley looked up at her and whined again, nudging her thigh with his huge head, as if to ask why his friend wasn't there anymore. Ruth pulled away from Harry and scratched the dog behind the ears. "Poor boy," she whispered. "It's going to be all right. Daddy's not hurting anymore. He's not," she murmured, trying to reassure herself of the fact. "I'll take good care of you, Crowley. I will."

She backed away from the room, leaving the dog and his master, a horrible, choking feeling coming over her. She took a deep breath and retreated to the kitchen again, looking for the phone. "Malcolm," she whispered when he picked up. "I don't know what to do."

"Ruth?"

"I was at the market," she exhaled in a rush. "And when I came home – god – Malcolm, he's gone. Harry's gone." Saying the words made them concrete; they were so harsh and so final. She took a shuddering breath and the tears began unbidden. She sobbed and sobbed, shouting about the unfairness of it all, how she should have been there when he died, how she should have not gone to the shops, how much she loved him.

When she finally calmed down, Crowley was resting at her feet, whining, and Malcolm's voice was heavy with tears. "Call the non-emergency number," he said softly. "They'll come take him away and I'll help with the arrangements. I'll pack a bag and get on the train as soon as I can, if you'll meet me at the station."

"Yes, all right," she agreed very quietly. Knowing that Harry's body was just in the other room was horrible, and she couldn't bear… anything now. "I – Malcolm –"

"I know," he said simply. "I know."

* * *

She couldn't handle one more person looking at her with pity. Not her children, not her grandchildren… not anyone. Ruth got up from the cushy old armchair and went to the kitchen, bypassing many mourners who looked at each other with sadness and confusion as she took her leave. Malcolm was in the kitchen, working on another tray of sandwiches and a tray of fresh cookies from the oven, and she was more than grateful for his having come round.

Ruth went to the cabinet over the sink and drew out Harry's last bottle of whiskey – it had been a gift from the King for their anniversary… forty year single malt from his personal stash. She got down two tumblers and put a few cubes of ice into them before pouring herself and Malcolm each a double. "To Harry," she said, lifting her glass. "May he be waiting for us on the other side with that smug bastard look on his face."

"To Harry," Malcolm agreed, "the best friend I ever had who wasn't named Colin."

Ruth drained her glass quickly, wincing as the alcohol took her breath away. She knew it wouldn't help, but she couldn't not drink it. She knew after the gathering tonight would be the funeral tomorrow, and she couldn't face it without something fortifying. She turned the tumbler in her fingers, looking at the way the light reflected off the cut glass and onto the counter top. "Malcolm, what am I going to do?" she whispered. "I've been with him so long I can't remember what I was without him. I don't want to remember," she corrected, her eyes brimming up with hot tears. "I was so alone before I met him. I don't want to be alone, but I don't want anyone but him."

Malcolm took a deep breath and sighed. "I don't know what I'm meant to say," he admitted quietly. "I've only ever been in love once, and it wasn't returned. We're still good friends, but…" He blinked and muttered, "But a better man than me got there first. I didn't have the heart to try."

She knew then, Malcolm's terrible, awful secret that he'd kept hidden from them all. "Oh, Mal," she sighed. "You never said –"

"I couldn't, Ruth. I couldn't step between you and Harry – you loved him, you see, and he loved you." Malcolm shrugged. "My best friends, together, and I couldn't be the one to break you apart. I wouldn't." He smiled sadly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to –"

She reached over and took his hand. "I won't tell," she promised very softly. "And… if you wanted to stay a while, I'd be grateful. I can't do this alone. Someday soon, I'm going to wake up and realize that I'm alone and I can't bear the thought of it, Malcolm."

He nodded and leaned in to kiss her cheek, a gesture reminiscent of Harry, and her heart broke all over again.

* * *

"Nana Ruth, Nana Ruth," Billy cried, escaping his parents and grandparents to run over to her. He flung his arms around her waist and held on for dear life. "I'm so sorry about Papa Harry," he said, his hazel eyes shining with tears.

Ruth nodded and brushed his unruly hair back out of his face. "Me, too, love," she whispered. "Me, too."

"Can I sit with you instead of mummy and dad?" Billy asked. He was nearly seven now, and he was bright as a button and twice as sweet as the candies that Ruth kept for him. "You're so sad – they're not so sad," he tried to explain.

She knelt down and hugged the little boy tightly. "You may," she whispered. "Have I ever told you how happy your Papa was when you were born?"

Billy shook his head. "Was he?"

"He was absolutely over the moon," Ruth whispered. "For a few hours, you were the most important person in the world to him, William."

"I love him, too," Billy said, taking his great-grandmother's hand and holding it tightly. She led him to the front pew where she would be sitting with the children – who weren't really children anymore. Graham and Beth, Catherine and Paul, Zoe and Camille, Lizzie and Stephen, and Fiona – they weren't children anymore, they were married or in relationships or divorced… a far cry from children now.

Ruth settled in and curled her arms around Billy on one side and Fiona on the other. Fiona had recently been through a heart-wrenching divorce and was looking to come back to the UK for a while to lick her wounds. She hadn't expected her father to die, and had been absolutely hysterical down the phone. She'd calmed down, slamming down a mask to hide her tumultuous emotions, but Ruth knew she was struggling by the fact that she was allowing her mum to hold her.

Billy was Harry's favorite of all the grandchildren – everyone knew it, and no one cared. He was young and precious, third in line for the throne, and an only child. Harry had delighted in spoiling him rotten with trains and books and computer games of all sorts. And the little boy had responded with all of the love a child could show for someone who loved him in return. He sniffled a little, and Ruth pulled him closer into her side. "He loved you so much, Billy," she whispered. "And he's always going to be watching over you – a right proper spook."

"I don't want a spook," the boy said simply. "I want Papa Harry."

Verity reached from behind them and gently curled her hand around her grandmother's shoulder, giving her silent strength. Ruth closed her eyes and just breathed. All she wanted was Harry, the status quo, her Harry, back in her arms. The house was too empty, too quiet, without him.

The service was tasteful and well-done. At the end, Malcolm rose and read a poem that he and Harry had cherished during their days on the Grid about brothers in arms. Ruth's hands were shaking and she stood up and abandoned her family, rushing to the podium in a few seconds to finish the poem with Malcolm. She held his hand, tears shining in her eyes, and nodded – indicating that she wanted to share a few words.

She took a deep breath, and Malcolm's hand rested on her back, supporting her though she might stumble. "My name is Ruth Evershed," she began, "and I once told Harry after a funeral that I never wanted six people to mourn him. That he deserved so much more than that. Seeing you all here today… means the world to me. You cared for him, you loved him. You're here because you did so freely and willingly. I loved Harry so much that it hurts my soul to wake up without him now," she confessed, her voice dropping to a low, hoarse whisper. "I took his name, I took on his baggage, his sorrow, his joys, his pain – and he shared mine. I don't know how to be Ruth without Harry anymore. I don't know that I want to know. He loved his family, his children, so strongly… and he loved me." Her voice cracked, broke, and Billy rushed up to hug her tight as she wept. She finally swiped at her eyes, ruffled the little boy's hair, and spoke clearly. "My name is Ruth Pearce – and I love Harry with all my heart."

END PART THIRTY-EIGHT


	39. Chapter 39

Thirty-nine:  
First Moments

It was a normal day. Ruth was puttering in the kitchen, fixing some lunch for Fiona and herself – nothing special, just sandwiches and salad – and wondering if they'd have to go out later. It had been a little over a year and a half since Harry had passed on, and in that time, so much had changed and so much had remained the same. She and Malcolm had lived together after Harry had died, but nothing more was said about Malcolm's declaration of love. He'd passed away a few months before, taking that secret to the grave. Fiona had moved in to help take care of things, and Ruth was just finding it hard to make it through the day by day things without her.

Ruth was in the middle of cutting up some herbs to add to the salad when her head started pounding, her ears ringing with the force of it all. She staggered to the dinette and slumped into a chair, not sure if she'd cried out with the pain or not. When the agony finally passed, she was blinking up at the ceiling. Her body felt wrong – parts were numb and unresponsive, parts were over-responsive and painful. Fiona took her hand and Ruth couldn't feel but a gentle pressure.

"Mum? Mummy – "

Her tongue didn't want to work, but Ruth managed to sit up somehow and whispered, "God, my head –"

Fiona blinked. Or Ruth thought she did – maybe. Her vision was so blurry and off.

"Mum, I'm calling an ambulance," Fiona said firmly. "I'm going to let Crowley in to sit with you. Don't try to move, okay?"

She opened the garden door and the giant dog immediately came inside and hovered protectively at Ruth's side. And then she heard Fiona on the phone. "Yes, this is Fiona Pearce-Rhymes at 1722 End Road, we need an ambulance immediately. I think my mum's had a stroke – she's seventy-five, history of minor high blood pressure but it's controlled on medications. Her right side is unresponsive and drooping, and she's – she's understanding me, but she's speaking French at the moment. No, her primary language is English – but she speaks twelve languages, so I don't know – I – I – please, just send help."

Ruth tried to clear her head, but everything was jumbled up and her words were just so, as well. She tried to tell Fiona that but all that came out was a slew of words that didn't make any sense.

"Mum, shh, just try to stay calm," Fiona said softly, coming over and kneeling at her feet, pushing the big dog out of the way. "Can you tell me if your head still hurts?"

Ruth tried to nod, but it didn't work. She tried to say yes, but she didn't know if it came out right or not. Fiona's eyes were worried even though she tried to hide it.

"I'm sorry you're in pain, mummy," Fiona whispered. "But an ambulance is on the way – we'll get you taken care of, I promise. I promise."

Ruth just let herself be swarmed with medics and tubes and medicines. She couldn't have prevented it, anyway, so she just let them work. She hated feeling helpless, and right now, she felt worse than helpless. Once at the hospital, she was tubed up even more and hooked up to monitors and things, then whisked off for several scans. She didn't know how much time had passed; everything was a blur.

And then she saw him, hovering just beyond the doctors and the nurses. "Harry!" she called out, reaching for him. "HARRY – no, please – "

Fiona stepped up to the bed, blocking her view of Harry. "Mum, dad isn't here," Fiona said softly. "He died, remember?"

Ruth closed her eyes and sobbed anew. No, how could she be so blind? He was right there – right there –

One of the doctors came in with a scan film and put it up on the light box. "Ms. Rhymes, your mother's stroke was severe. It's damaged over seventy percent of the left hemisphere of her brain and she has a minor bleed right here –"

Ruth glared at the doctor and told him to stuff it up his arse.

Fiona's lips twitched and she said, "Mum isn't happy to hear that. She said something about stuffing it up your ass like a Christmas turkey – in Arabic."

"Well, her language centers seem to be impaired but not destroyed – and if you allow us to, we can do surgery to stop the bleed…"

"NO," Ruth said sharply. Ever since Lucas, Albany, she couldn't handle the thought of being on anesthetic. It was her darkest fear, surgery, and she would rather die.

"Mum –"

"NO," Ruth repeated.

"Okay," Fiona said very quietly. "No surgery," she said to the doctor. "I'll sign a DNR order if I must. Mum's made her choice." Her voice wavered and Ruth wondered if that stubbornness had come from her or Harry. Or both in equal measure.

It was a long time before Fiona left her bedside, and then only to get a coffee. She'd called her siblings and they were all rushing to hospital. But Ruth didn't want them to see her like this. She didn't want anyone to see her like this – not even Harry.

As soon as Fiona was gone, they were alone. He came close to the bed and said, "I've been waiting, my love. I'm sorry it hurts so much for you – it didn't hurt at all when I went. I just… went to sleep and didn't wake up."

Her head began throbbing again, and the beeps of her machines went bloody haywire. "It does hurt," she gasped.

"I know," he assured her. "But it'll be over soon. Very soon."

Suddenly, there was no more pain, and she reached to take his hand, to fall into his arms and weep for joy. "I missed you," Ruth breathed. "So much – I missed you so much –"

He smiled and gave her a kiss. "It's all right," he whispered. "Let's go. There's nothing more to be done here."

"No – I can't leave Fiona –"

* * *

Fiona came running into the room and saw a crowd around her mother's bed, but she thought – for a moment – she thought for a moment, she saw her parents in the corner. Shaking her head, thinking she'd finally lost it and gone mad with grief, she met the eyes of one of the doctors, who told her that her mother had had another stroke, one that had taken her life.

She fell into a chair, sobbing.

END PART THIRTY-NINE


	40. Chapter 40

Forty:  
Closure

There were always fresh flowers on the graves of the Duke and Duchess of Albany. As long as their children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren – those who had known them, who had loved them – were alive, there were always lilies, roses, and daisies strewn across the graves.

They were heroes: their deeds lauded across the land in the fight for freedom and lives well-lived and loved. But to their family, they were pillars of a different kind, and with them gone, it was hard for Graham and Catherine to step up.

Their headstone was simple and shared – a declaration of their last name, Pearce, across the top, then their dates of passage and then lower, their names. Ruth on the left, Harry on the right, as they'd been in life. Their children couldn't remember a time when Ruth had ever been on his right side – she'd always been protective of his left. And then very simple words beneath their names.

HIS.

HERS.

(C'est finis.)


End file.
